She went downstairs and found Miss Aldclyffe had gone into the breakfast-room, but that Captain Aldclyffe, who rose later with increasing infirmities, had not yet made his appearance. Cytherea entered. Miss Aldclyffe was looking out of the window, watching a trail of white smoke along the distant landscape--signifying a passing train. At Cytherea’s entry she turned and looked inquiry. ‘I must tell you now,’ began Cytherea, in a tremulous voice. ‘Well, what?’ Miss Aldclyffe said. ‘I am not going to stay with you. I must go away--a very long way. I am very sorry, but indeed I can’t remain!’ ‘Pooh--what shall we hear next?’ Miss Aldclyffe surveyed Cytherea’s face with leisurely criticism. ‘You are breaking your heart again about that worthless young Springrove. I knew how it would be. It is as Hallam says of Juliet--what little reason you may have possessed originally has all been whirled away by this love. I shan’t take this notice, mind.’ ‘Do let me go!’ Miss Aldclyffe took her new pet’s hand, and said with severity, ‘As to hindering you, if you are determined to go, of course that’s absurd. But you are not now in a state of mind fit for deciding upon any such proceeding, and I shall not listen to what you have to say. Now, Cythie, come with me; we’ll let this volcano burst and spend itself, and after that we’ll see what had better be done.’ She took Cytherea into her workroom, opened a drawer, and drew forth a roll of linen. ‘This is some embroidery I began one day, and now I should like it finished.’ She then preceded the maiden upstairs to Cytherea’s own room. ‘There,’ she said, ‘now sit down here, go on with this work, and remember one thing--that you are not to leave the room on any pretext whatever for two hours unless I send for you--I insist kindly, dear. Whilst you stitch--you are to stitch, recollect, and not go mooning out of the window--think over the whole matter, and get cooled; don’t let the foolish love-affair prevent your thinking as a woman of the world. If at the end of that time you still say you must leave me, you may. I will have no more to say in the matter. Come, sit down, and promise to sit here the time I name.’ To hearts in a despairing mood, compulsion seems a relief; and docility was at all times natural to Cytherea. She promised, and sat down. Miss Aldclyffe shut the door upon her and retreated. She sewed, stopped to think, shed a tear or two, recollected the articles of the treaty, and sewed again; and at length fell into a reverie which took no account whatever of the lapse of time. 4. TEN TO TWELVE O’CLOCK A.M. A quarter of an hour might have passed when her thoughts became attracted from the past to the present by unwonted movements downstairs. She opened the door and listened.