What had she done? What was she doing? What was this? Oh, but it was shameful, shameful.... She made one immense effort, and with both her hands pushed him away; and before he could stop her, for he too was in a dream, she had run to the door and flown along the passage to her bedroom and locked herself in. Then she rang violently for Mrs. Mitcham, and told her through the shut door to let Mr. Monckton out--she was going to bed at once--she had a terrible headache.... And she sat down on her bed and cried bitterly. XI Virginia, coming back to the house on Sunday from a short after-luncheon stroll in the garden, where the daffodils were making a great show and the blackbirds a great noise, with the intention of putting her feet up till tea and lying quietly in her boudoir, was surprised to see her mother standing on the terrace. Her first thought was of Stephen. Her mother had never yet come uninvited and unexpected. Was anything wrong with him? She hastened her steps. ‘Anything wrong?’ she called out anxiously. Her mother shook her head reassuringly, and came down to meet her. They kissed. ‘I had such a longing to see you,’ said Catherine, in answer to Virginia’s face of wonder; and, clinging to her a little, she added, ‘I felt I wanted to be close to you--quite close.’ She took Virginia’s arm, and they walked back slowly towards the house. ‘Sweet of you, mother,’ said Virginia, who was taller than her mother, having taken after George in height as well as features; but still she wondered. She wondered even more when later on she saw her mother’s luggage. It suggested a longer stay than any she had yet made. But even as they strolled towards the house she felt a little uneasy. Her mother had been so satisfactory till now, so careful not to intrude, not to mar the felicities of the early married months. Stephen had warmly praised her admirable tendency to absence rather than presence, and Virginia had been very proud of having provided him with a mother-in-law he admitted could not be bettered. She loved to lay every good gift in her possession at Stephen’s feet, and had rejoiced that her mother should be another of them. Was there going now to be a difference? She said nothing, however, except that it was a pity she hadn’t known her mother was coming, so that her room might have been ready for her. ‘And how did you manage at the station, mother, with nothing to meet you?’ she asked. ‘I got the fly from the Dragon. I had to wait, of course, but not long. Old Mr. Pearce was so kind, and drove me himself. I would have let you know, but I hadn’t time. I--I suddenly felt I <i>must</i> be with you. I had a longing to be just here, peacefully. It doesn’t put you out, dearest?’ ‘But of course not, mother. Only you have missed hearing Stephen preach to-night.’ ‘Yes. I’m sorry. I saw him yesterday, though. He dined with me.’