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Jermyn. I don’t regret that you took after your mother. You made the right choice.”
    â€œI am not so sure,” said Matthew.
    Godfrey, with a rather pathetic flush creeping over his face, strode on with his arm in his son’s.
    â€œWell, and what do you think of your mother lately, Matthew?”
    â€œI don’t think she is any better, Father.”
    â€œNot any better? You mean you regard her as ill? I have been intending to ask your serious opinion for a long time, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to it. You think she is ill, my son?”
    â€œI think she is threatened with mental illness. She might avoid it if she tried. But I cannot imagine her trying.”
    â€œDo you think she could try?” said Godfrey.
    â€œThat is at the bottom of things. You are on the point, Father.”
    â€œAh, you see, I don’t miss as much as you think. I am not blind where your mother is concerned, whatever else doesn’t strike me as calling for notice. People are not always on the point about me. Whatever hint of a change comes over her, I am alive to it. In a moment my life is dark or light as the case may be. I speak the simple truth.” Godfrey, though speaking what he said, came to as sudden a pause as if it were falsehood, as Harriet came from her garden into his sight.
    â€œPray don’t stop, Godfrey. Don’t pull yourself up as if you were doing something wrong in walking on the path with Matthew. Whatever is the harm in that? I hope if it were anything to be ashamed of, you would not do it.”
    â€œOh, now, Harriet! Why, I have hardly seen you since the morning, and this is how I am greeted! You scarcely spoke a word to me at luncheon. Now, now, come, my dear girl.”
    Harriet stood with her face under a cloud.
    â€œWell, Mother, you have spent a day out of doors?” said Matthew.
    â€œYes, my boy,” said Harriet, raising her hands to his shoulders. “I have been feeling more my old self, and relied rather rashly on it, and let myself get over-tired. Have you had a satisfying day’s work?”
    â€œYes, he has; I can tell you that, Harriet,” said Godfrey eagerly. “He has had a day of great scientific interest, he tells me. He came home and came up to me quite full of it. Didn’t you, Matthew?”
    â€œI shouldn’t put it quite in that way, Father,” said Matthew, his face darkening in imitation of his mother’s.
    â€œWell, well, I will leave you to each other,” said Godfrey, falling back on the only solution. “You will like to have a word together after your day apart. I was glad myself of my word with you, Matthew, and I’ll wagerthat your mother will be. Ah, I know just how her heart yearns over you…”
    â€œHere is Gregory coming out with a note,” said Matthew, making a diversion in time.
    â€œAh, there is Gregory. Yes, it is Gregory,” said Godfrey, shading his eyes. “Yes, he is bringing a note to us. Now I wonder what that can be. I don’t know who should be sending us a note by hand at this hour. It quite beats me. I can’t guess at all.”
    â€œWe need not guess. We shall know in a moment,” said Harriet, taking the note from Gregory, with her different smile for him. “Did you find this in the hall, my dear?”
    â€œIt has just been left. Buttermere was coming out with it. I think it must be from Mr. Spong. Mrs. Calkin told me that Mrs. Spong died last night. She had had a letter from him. No doubt this is to tell you the same thing.”
    â€œYes, yes, that would be it,” said Godfrey. “That is what it must be. Well, poor Lucy Spong! I was afraid of it. I had a misgiving, you know, when I heard that the illness was thought to be mortal. But one never knows. Many of us are alive to-day who have no right to be, and many of us will be dead to-morrow who haven’t an inkling of it to-day.”
    â€œGodfrey, stop