Anna Leath, from the terrace, watched the return of the little group.

　　She looked down on them, as they advanced across the garden,from the serene height of her unassailable happiness. Therethey were, coming toward her in the mild morning light, herchild, her step-son, her promised husband: the three beingswho filled her life. She smiled a little at the happypicture they presented, Effie's gambols encircling it in amoving frame within which the two men came slowly forward inthe silence of friendly understanding. It seemed part ofthe deep intimacy of the scene that they should not betalking to each other, and it did not till afterward strikeher as odd that neither of them apparently felt it necessaryto address a word to Sophy Viner.

　　Anna herself, at the moment, was floating in the mid-currentof felicity, on a tide so bright and buoyant that she seemedto be one with its warm waves. The first rush of bliss hadstunned and dazzled her; but now that, each morning, shewoke to the calm certainty of its recurrence, she wasgrowing used to the sense of security it gave.

　　"I feel as if I could trust my happiness to carry me; as ifit had grown out of me like wings." So she phrased it toDarrow, as, later in the morning, they paced the garden-paths together. His answering look gave her the sameassurance of safety. The evening before he had seemedpreoccupied, and the shadow of his mood had faintlyencroached on the great golden orb of their blessedness; butnow it was uneclipsed again, and hung above them high andbright as the sun at noon.

　　Upstairs in her sitting-room, that afternoon, she wasthinking of these things. The morning mists had turned torain, compelling the postponement of an excursion in whichthe whole party were to have joined. Effie, with hergoverness, had been despatched in the motor to do someshopping at Francheuil; and Anna had promised Darrow to joinhim, later in the afternoon, for a quick walk in the rain.

　　He had gone to his room after luncheon to get some belatedletters off his conscience; and when he had left her she hadcontinued to sit in the same place, her hands crossed on herknees, her head slightly bent, in an attitude of broodingretrospection. As she looked back at her past life, itseemed to her to have consisted of one ceaseless effort topack into each hour enough to fill out its slack folds; butnow each moment was like a miser's bag stretched to burstingwith pure gold.

　　She was roused by the sound of Owen's step in the galleryoutside her room. It paused at her door and in answer tohis knock she called out "Come in!"As the door closed behind him she was struck by his look ofpale excitement, and an impulse of compunction made her say:

　　"You've come to ask me why I haven't spoken to yourgrandmother!"He sent about him a glance vaguely reminding her of thestrange look with which Sophy Viner had swept the room thenight before; then his brilliant eyes came back to her.

　　"I've spoken to her myself," he said.

　　Anna started up, incredulous.

　　"You've spoken to her? When?""Just now. I left her to come here."Anna's first feeling was one of annoyance. There was reallysomething comically incongruous in this boyish surrender toimpulse on the part of a young man so eager to assume theresponsibilities of life. She looked at him with a faintlyveiled amusement.

　　"You asked me to help you and I promised you I would. It washardly worth while to work out such an elaborate plan ofaction if you intended to take the matter out of my handswithout telling me.""Oh, don't take that tone with me!" he broke out, almostangrily.

　　"That tone? What tone?" She stared at his quivering face.

　　"I might," she pursued, still half-laughing, "more properlymake that request of YOU!"Owen reddened and his vehemence suddenly subsided.

　　"I meant that I HAD to speak--that's all. You don'tgive me a chance to explain..."She looked at him gently, wondering a little at her ownimpatience.

　　"Owen! Don't I always want to give you every chance? It'sbecause I DO that I wanted to talk to your grandmotherfirst--that I was waiting and watching for the rightmoment...""The right moment? So was I. That's why I've spoken." Hisvoice rose again and took the sharp edge it had in momentsof high pressure.

　　His step-mother turned away and seated herself in her sofa-corner. "Oh, my dear, it's not a privilege to quarrel over!

　　You've taken a load off my shoulders. Sit down and tell meall about it."He stood before her, irresolute. "I can't sit down," hesaid.

　　"Walk about, then. Only tell me: I'm impatient."His immediate response was to throw himself into thearmchair at her side, where he lounged for a moment withoutspeaking, his legs stretched out, his arms locked behind histhrown-back head. Anna, her eyes on his face, waitedquietly for him to speak.

　　"Well--of course it was just what one expected.""She takes it so badly, you mean?""All the heavy batteries were brought up: my father, Givre,Monsieur de Chantelle, the throne and the altar. Even mypoor mother was dragged out of oblivion and armed withimaginary protests."Anna sighed out her sympathy. "Well--you were prepared forall that?""I thought I was, till I began to hear her say it. Then itsounded so incredibly silly that I told her so.""Oh, Owen--Owen!""Yes: I know. I was a fool; but I couldn't help it.""And you've mortally offended her, I suppose? That's exactlywhat I wanted to prevent." She laid a hand on his shoulder.

　　"You tiresome boy, not to wait and let me speak for you!"He moved slightly away, so that her hand slipped from itsplace. "You don't understand," he said, frowning.

　　"I don't see how I can, till you explain. If you thoughtthe time had come to tell your grandmother, why not haveasked me to do it? I had my reasons for waiting; but ifyou'd told me to speak I should have done so, naturally."He evaded her appeal by a sudden turn. "What WERE yourreasons for waiting?"Anna did not immediately answer. Her step-son's eyes wereon her face, and under his gaze she felt a faintdisquietude.

　　"I was feeling my way...I wanted to be absolutely sure...""Absolutely sure of what?"She delayed again for a just perceptible instant. "Why,simply of OUR side of the case.""But you told me you were, the other day, when we talked itover before they came back from Ouchy.""Oh, my dear--if you think that, in such a complicatedmatter, every day, every hour, doesn't more or less modifyone's surest sureness!""That's just what I'm driving at. I want to know what hasmodified yours."She made a slight gesture of impatience. "What does itmatter, now the thing's done? I don't know that I could giveany clear ............