"There _is_ a Jim, and the Middletons know him. Dorothea wrote about some commissions, and Katrine showed me the note--wanting my advice. There was a reference to one `Jim,'--she'd forgotten that, quite a colourless reference, but when I questioned, she _blushed_!" Grizel covered her cheeks with her hands, in eloquent gesture. "Oh, _such_ a blush! I looked away, but I thought: `Why should one blush at a name?' and after that I went _on_ thinking. It's Jim, India--Martin, you may take my word for it, though how, and why, and when, I have no more idea than you have yourself. There's a new interest in her life; any one with two eyes can see that, and she writes huge, huge letters..." "To Dorothea! She's done that for years. I've often wondered what she finds to say." Grizel rolled eloquent eyes to the ceiling. "I have been young," she declaimed dramatically, "and now am old, yet have I never seen a woman staring into space, smirking, and looking silly, considering how she can best turn a sentence, to another woman! I tell you that which I do know and, Martin dear, it's not disloyalty... I wouldn't have breathed a word, if it had not been for the hope of helping both. Keep your own eyes open, and _act_! Katrine's conscience is of the good, old-fashioned, Nonconformist type which urges her on to do the thing she most dislikes, out of a deluded idea that it must needs be right! She's quite capable of playing suttee with her life. _Don't let her do it_!" "How can I help it? I know nothing. I am not consulted. I believe the whole thing is imagination. If there had been anything real she would surely have confided in you." "Me? I'm the last person,--the last person in the world--" The words were spoken on the impulse of the moment, and apparently regretted as soon as they were pronounced. Grizel flushed; obviously, unmistakably, even in the glow of the firelight. She flushed, and pushing back her chair rose hurriedly to her feet. "Whew! That fire! Katrine was right,--it _does_ get close. And I believe it is going to clear.--I'll go and see." "Why are you the last? _Why_?" Martin had followed her, was questioning with a new light in his eyes-- eager, curious, anticipatory. On her way towards the door her progress was blocked by his tall form. "Why the last, Grizel?" he repeated urgently. "Tell me! I want to know. Why should Katrine--?" Never before had he seen a trace of embarrassment break the lazy serenity of Grizel's mien. The sight of it, and the possibility of an intoxicating explanation of her statement, fired his blood. For the last two years he had been fighting against this love, fighting it as a forbidden thing, a thing of which to be ashamed, but lately, subtly, the mental position had changed. Life was forcibly pushing him from one standpoint after another, proving its untenability, sending him forth to find fresh fields.