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and looked up at her daughter-in-law. Hester still stood leaning back against the pine-tree, her elbow in her hand, her chin on her knuckles, looking before her with a cold, intent look. Her lips were drawn; her cheek sunken; but how pale and starry was her forehead. Monica fixed her eyes on Hester’s fore-head. She had always granted that Hester’s fore-head was beautiful, and the shape of her dark, proud head. She looked at her, carefully, for a long time. And Hester, unaware of her scrutiny, remained sunken in her own dark thoughts.

‘Hester, how did you know that I was here?’ Something so new had come into Monica’s apprehension that she was filled with dispassionate wonder. ‘What made you come?’ she asked.

‘Robin saw you,’ said Hester. She kept her eyes fixed before her and spoke with a change of tone, with relief, perhaps, at the adjournment of their personal question. ‘He was on the hill and saw you starting and came and told me that you were going out. He looked so queer that I asked him if anything were the matter and he said: ‘Grannie’s unhappy. She can’t walk properly. She keeps stopping all the time.’—Of course he was badly upset yesterday—by me and Godfrey,’ said Hester, uttering the name steadily, though after a slight