Mrs. Courtenay was a person of courage and endurance, but even her powers had been sorely tried during the past week. She had been bored to the verge of distraction by the people of whom she had taken such a cordial leave the night before. There are persons who never, when out visiting, wish to retire to their rooms to rest, who never have letters to write, who never take up a book downstairs, who work for deep-sea fishermen, and are always ready for conversation. Such had been the departed. Miss Fane herself, for whom Mrs. Courtenay professed a certain friendship, was a person with whom she would have had nothing in common, whom she would hardly have tolerated, if it had not been for her nephew. But for him she was willing to sacrifice herself even further. She had seen undemonstrative men in love before now. Their actions had the same bald significance for her as a string of molehills for a mole-catcher. She was certain he was seriously attracted, and she was determined to give him a fair field, and as much favour as possible. That Di had not as yet the remotest suspicion of his intentions she regarded as little short of providential, considering the irritating and impracticable turn of that young lady's mind. Di entered her grandmother's room, and found that conspirator sitting up in bed, looking with rueful interest at a boiled egg and untouched rack of toast on a tray before her. Mrs. Courtenay always breakfasted in bed, and could generally thank Providence for a very substantial meal. "Take the tray away, Brown," said Mrs. Courtenay, with an effort. "Why, you've not touched a single thing, ma'am," remarked Brown, reproachfully. "I have drunk a little coffee," said Mrs. Courtenay, faintly. "Granny, aren't you well?" asked Di. Brown removed the tray, which Mrs. Courtenay's eyes followed regretfully from the room. "I am not _very_ well, my love," she replied, adjusting her spectacles, "but not positively ill. I had a threatening of one of those tiresome spasms in the night. I dare say it will pass off in an hour or two." Di scrutinized her grandmother remorsefully. "I never noticed you were feeling ill when I came in before breakfast," she said. "My dear, you are generally the first to observe how I am," returned Mrs. Courtenay, hurriedly. "I was feeling better just then, but--and we are due at Carmyan to-day. It is very provoking." Di looked perturbed. "The others are gone," she said; "even the painter has just driven off. Do you think you will be able to travel by the afternoon, granny?" "I am afraid _not_," said Mrs. Courtenay, closing her eyes; "but I think--I feel sure I could go to-morrow." "To-morrow is Sunday."