"That'll make it all right and proper. The fact is, I must have a rest and change before the winter. I hardly ever get away, as you know. And Evelyn would like to have me. I think I must go." "Of course you must go," Anne said. And Adeline went. At the end of the first week she wrote: 12 Eaton Square. November 3d, 1915. Darling Anne,--Will you be very much surprised to hear that your father and I are going to be married? You mayn't know it, but he has loved me all his life. We _were_ to have married once (you knew _that_), and I jilted him. But he has never changed. He has been so faithful and forgiving, and has waited for me so patiently--twenty-seven years, Anne--that I hadn't the heart to refuse him. I feel that I must make up to him for all the pain I've given him. We want you to come up for the wedding on the 10th. It will be very quiet. No bridesmaids. No party. We think it best not to have it at Wyck, on Colin's account. So I shall just be married from Evelyn's house. Give us your blessing, there's a dear. Your loving Adeline Fielding. Anne's eyes filled with tears. At last she saw Adeline Fielding completely, as she was, without any fascination. She thought: "She's marrying to get away from Colin. She's left him to me to look after. How could she leave him? How could she?" Anne didn't go up for the wedding. She told Adeline it wasn't much use asking her when she knew that Colin couldn't be left. "Or, if you like, that _I_ can't leave him." Her father wrote back: Your Aunt Adeline thinks you reproach her for leaving Colin. I told her you were too intelligent to do anything of the sort. You'll agree it's the best thing she could do for him. She's no more capable of looking after Colin than a kitten. She wants to be looked after herself, and you ought to be grateful to me for relieving you of the job. But I don't like your being alone down there with Colin. If he isn't better we must send him to a nursing home. Are you wondering whether we're going to be happy? We shall be so long as I let her have her own way; which is what I mean to do. Your very affectionate father, JOHN SEVERN. And Anne answered: DEAREST DADDY,--I shouldn't dream of reproaching Aunt Adeline any more than I should reproach a pussycat for catching birds. Look after her as much as you please--_I_ shall look after Colin. Whether you like it or not, darling, you can't stop me. And I won't let Colin go to a nursing home. It would be the worst possible place for him. Ask Eliot. Besides, he _is_ better. I'm ever so glad you're going to be happy. Your loving ANNE. VIII ANNE AND COLIN i Autumn had passed. Colin's couch was drawn up before the fire in the drawing-room. Anne sat with him there.