A moment later her hostess followed her.

"Well, Mrs. Milbanke," she said, "what do you think of England? Isn't it a place to be happy in?" She spoke with something of the strength and domination of her sister; but it was a softened strength, as her face, although possessing the same bold outline as Lady Frances's, was softer, gentler, more sympathetic.

Clodagh turned and looked at her.

"I think it is a place to be _content_ in," she said after a moment's pause.

Lady Diana Tuirnell's glance rested upon her interestedly. And, as the thought of her youth and her mourning rose to her mind, something like pity touched her face.

"You are very right!" she said. "We women make a great mistake in dissociating happiness and contentment. There is too much struggle in many of our lives, and too little peace. Frances, for instance! Her life is one restless race after something that is unattainable!"

"But Lady Frances is happy! She likes struggling!"

Lady Diana smiled.

"She thinks she does. But the truly contented woman does not need to persuade herself that she is satisfied. Happiness is a fact, not an attainment." With a quiet, kindly movement she turned aside and picked up two photographs that stood upon a side-table.

"Mrs. Milbanke, this is the happiness that comes--and stays. The happiness that needs no expounding." She held out the photographs.

Clodagh took them and looked at them. One was the picture of her host; the other the photograph of three plain-looking, honest-eyed boys, who each possessed in an almost ridiculous degree their mother's outline of feature. She looked at them intently for a long time; then she handed them back.

"Thank you!" she said almost inaudibly. Then, moved by a sudden thought, she looked up into Lady Diana's face.

"Lady Diana," she said, "I want you to like my little sister! Will you like her? I don't want her to be one of the struggling women----" Then she paused suddenly, as the drawing-room door opened and Lady Frances Hope entered, followed by her brother-in-law.

At the sound of the opening door, Lady Diana gave her a quick smile of sympathy and understanding; and turned to greet the new-comers.

"What, Frances!" she exclaimed laughingly, as she caught sight of her sister's face. "Has George been beating you?"

Lady Frances came forward frowning.

"How ridiculous you are, Di! Your mind never soars above George." Then, realising that her annoyance had carried her away, she gave a short laugh and suddenly recovered her composure.

"I am angry because our game was spoiled. I was making a really excellent break, when we were interrupted by a stupid telegram from Walter Gore."

Almost abruptly, Clodagh turned back to the open window, conscious that her face and ears were suddenly burning and that her heart had given a great unsteady throb.

Lady Diana looked quickly from her sister to her husband.

"From Walter?" she said in surprise.

"Yes, from Walter." George Tuffnell came forward with an open telegram in his hand. "Listen to this! 'Back from Russia. Town insufferably hot.

Gore Bridges in tradesmen's hands. No plans for immediate week. Can you put me up from to-morrow?--WALTER GORE.' Luck, isn't it! Why, we haven't seen him for a year. Dear old Walter!" Tuffnell's good-natured face beamed with hospitable enthusiasm. "What do you say, Di?" he added. "Of course we can manage it?"

"Of course! Why, it will make our party complete." Lady Diana glanced at her sister. But, to her surprise, there was no response in Lady Frances's expression.

With a movement of sudden decision, she had stepped forward.

"Di, wait a moment!" she said. "You know Walter and Val Serracauld never hit it off--and Walter and Deerehurst detest each other. Do you think it would be wise?"

Lady Diana looked perplexed.

"It is a little difficult," she said. "But we cannot refuse Walter."

She looked at her husband.

George Tuffnell responded with a laugh.

"Refuse Walter! Why, I'd as soon refuse to have the boys home for the holidays! The house is big enough for everybody! What do you say, Mrs.

Milbanke?"

Clodagh turned from the open window. From being red, her face was now very pale.

"I," she stammered--"I----"

Again Tuffnell laughed good-naturedly.

"Certainly! Don't you think, Di, that Mrs. Milbanke could give us an expert opinion on the management of man?"

Clodagh laughed unsteadily. Then, all at once, her mental balance was shaken by a wave of feeling. The thought of Gore--the remembrance of Gore--rose like tangible things, blotting out all else. She lifted her eyes to her host's.

"I agree with you," she swiftly said. "I should say that--that the house is big enough."

CHAPTER VII

The remaining hours of that night pa.s.sed like a dream for Clodagh.

Condemn herself as she might for the weakness, there was no subduing the tumultuous excitement kindled by the thought that she was to see Gore again.

It was not to be denied that time, intervening incidents, and a sub-conscious personal desire had blunted the first resentment that Lady Frances Hope's disclosures had engendered. In the reckless pursuit of excitement that had marked the past three months, she had imagined him banished from her mind; but now, at the knowledge of his promised advent, she realised that it had only been an imagination; that, despite everything, his place in her mind had never been usurped.

When at last she fell asleep, long after midnight, her thoughts were strange, exciting, almost happy; and when next morning the entrance of Simonetta roused her to consciousness, it was with something like hopefulness and antic.i.p.ation that she turned her eyes to the open window, through which the clear country sunlight was breaking between the gay chintz curtains.

With a quick, eager wakefulness she sat up in bed and pushed back her loosened hair. A feeling, long forgotten, was stirring in her heart--the vague, delicious hope of future things that had been wont to thrill her long ago, when she rode her father's horses along the strand at Orristown in the untarnished dawn of an Irish day.

During the process of dressing, this sense of antic.i.p.ation grew; and with it came a spontaneous wish for action. She became imbued with the same desire for light and air and freedom that had possessed her on the day in Florence when she had gazed out upon the distant hills from the window of the villa.

Something of her eager energy was shining in her eyes, as she descended the stairs and entered the sunny morning-room, where breakfast was always served when the party at Tufnell was small.

Lady Diana and her husband were already in the room, glancing through their morning letters, the former wearing a plain linen dress, the latter an old shooting suit that had seen much service. At the moment that she opened the door, Lady Diana was reading aloud from the letter in her hand, while George Tuffnell was laughing with enormous amus.e.m.e.nt. They made a very homely, pleasant picture of contented, successful married life.

Seeing their guest, they both came forward cordially, and George Tuffnell smiled warm-heartedly as he took her hand.

"Well, Mrs. Milbanke, and what is Tuffnell like in daylight? Isn't it worth a hundred Londons? Haven't you got an appet.i.te for breakfast?"

Lady Diana laughed, as she led Clodagh to the table.