"Well, considering Indiana was so ill, I think it advisable for her to remain quietly at home to-day," said Lady Canning. "But I should be very pleased to have you all dine with us this evening." Indiana heard Lady Canning with a sensation of relief. She was suffering a tension of suspense. And she felt that to go out with her family and keep up this semblance of light-heartedness would have been an unendurable strain. "There, what did I tell you?" remarked Mrs. Bunker to Thurston, when they were on the point of leaving. "Where are your plans now?" He made no answer, standing, determined and pale, by the mantel, and following Indiana’s every move as she flitted from one to the other, kissing them good-bye. "Good morning, Lady Canning," said Mrs. Bunker. "I wish I had your complexion. Yes, I do." "Come early," pleaded Indiana, clinging to her mother, "and we’ll have a good, long talk before dinner, my dearest mother—and—and—after to-day we’ll spend all our time together." "I think it’s a shame you can’t go with us. You’re perfectly well?" "No, Lady Canning’s right—I have a headache. I was excited last night—at the hotel." "Your color’s so bright—perhaps you’re feverish," observed Mrs. Stillwater, anxiously. "Indy, is it all right between you and Thurston?" "Yes—mother—it’s all right." Mrs. Stillwater looked at her with an anxious expression. But Indiana met her gaze hopefully. "Don’t worry, mother," she said. "I love Thurston, and he loves me—so it’s all right, isn’t it?" "Yes, my darling," sighed Mrs. Stillwater, greatly relieved. "Even if—if things don’t go as they should sometimes," said Indiana, wistfully, "they come right after a while—don’t they—when people really love each other?" "Nothing matters, so long as you love each other," Mrs. Stillwater assured her, with the wisdom of her long matrimonial experience. Indiana watched them driving off, from the window—her mother and father in one hansom, Mrs. Bunker and Lord Stafford in another. The latter had manifested a desire to go shopping. He thought seriously of joining the party on their Parisian trip. "Thurston," asked Lady Canning, in a very serious voice, "is there anything wrong between you and your wife?" Indiana, at the window, listened with every nerve. "Nothing, mother," answered Thurston, purposely refraining from one glance at the little figure standing in the shadow of the curtains. "Then what has driven you to this sudden resolve? How could you think of doing such a cruel thing?" "I mean to do it, mother." Lady Canning looked at her son with very displeased eyes. "Thurston, you are developing an exceedingly bad temper. You—you have never before acted in such an inconsistent, inconsiderate manner. And with such a sweet wife. You don’t deserve her." "Mother, don’t scold him," said Indiana, pleadingly. Thurston cast on her an indescribable look.