Seen from Leo's standpoint, the bent shoulders and thin neck were aggressively apparent against the light--for a pale winter sunset lit up the sky without, and the two figures were silhouetted sharply--but Sue? what did Sue see? Apparently what satisfied her, what transformed the world around her. For Leo, rising at last, as all rose, and drawing near with a curiosity which had also in it a great and passionate envy, beheld upon her sister's face the look which she sought, the look which she was never to forget. Again her heart cried out, and would not be silenced: "I have lost something that I never had!" CHAPTER VIII. A CAT AND MOUSE GAME. We will now pass over a period of deadly dulness and unvarying monotony at Boldero Abbey. Such periods were normal there to all but Leonore. Her sisters frittered away the hours in small pursuits which led to nothing, (if we except a certain kindly care of the poor on the estate, whose interests Sue at least found of importance)--otherwise they existed, and that is all that could be said for them. But Leonore? Well, of course she had no alternative but to tread the path prescribed for her; and the bright spring days were followed by the longer ones of summer, and again by the crisp, dewy mornings and melting twilights of early autumn, without any incident or event taking place to mark one week from another. Such a life was foreign to all the instincts of our little girl's nature. She was quick, alert, impetuous. She was keenly alive in every fibre of her being. She effervesced with vitality. Added to which there was a strange sense of growth pulsing through every vein. And of this all outward token had to be repressed beneath the iron hand of convention. To the outward eye there was only a forlorn little black figure stealing meekly out of view, to seek, it might be supposed, the shades of solitude for pensive, retrospective meditation, or discharging with docility such offices of charity as were presumed to be proper and becoming to her widowhood,--but for the rest, no one really knew or cared what Leo did with herself. She was much alone--they supposed she liked to be alone. On that one day to which she grew to look back upon as _the_ day--the day on which Sue's heart stood revealed--it had indeed for a moment appeared as if the bonds which held her in their grip must break, and give birth to a new era--but the episode ended disappointingly. It was not an upheaval, it was a mere crack on the surface--and the crack gradually closed again. "I told you that father would not always be so amenable," said Sybil one day, not perhaps altogether ill-pleased to see her sister's face fall, and her cheek flush beneath a chilling response. "It is no use taking it to heart, child. You do better with him than any of the rest of us do, and that ought to content you."