It was a changed life for him; and he was changed,—thinner, older, and with a careworn expression. The eyes had ceased to sparkle, a weight lay on the brow, and the lips had a sad resolute set. Mrs. Browning and Daisy had been his nurses; not that much actual nursing was needed. The occupation was good for Mrs. Browning, Fulvia said. Fulvia had not seen him for ten days; and, when he reappeared, she noted sorrowfully the alteration. Sometimes she wondered, would he soon allude to those dying words of his father? She could not understand his manner. It was kind, grave, brotherly perhaps, certainly restrained. Yet at first Fulvia was not anxious. He had so much on his mind; and it was natural that he should wait awhile. Decorum almost demanded delay, just for a time after the padre's death. So Fulvia told herself, and thought or tried to think. Moreover, though Nigel had not been seriously ill—not ill enough, that is to say, to cause real anxiety—he had suffered a good deal, and had distinctly lost flesh and vigour. He was hardly up to anything exciting yet. "Poor Nigel!" she breathed pityingly. The three girls in their deep mourning were gathered round the drawing-room fire early one afternoon,—the second day since Nigel had come among them again. Fulvia's mourning matched that of the other two. She would not make a grain of difference, for she was one with them in their loss, though united by no tie of blood. The profound black set off well her ruddy hair and clear skin. She looked sad, trying to realise what was hard to believe—that not one fortnight had passed since the padre's death. To the imagination it was more like two months than two weeks. On the other hand it seemed strange that so many days could have elapsed while no one beyond herself and Nigel had an inkling of the true state of affairs; yet Fulvia herself had insisted on delay. Nigel would have spoken to his sisters two days earlier but for her entreaties. "Mother was asleep when I went in just now," Daisy said. "My dear, let her sleep. It is the best thing she can do. And if she wakes, keep her away from here." "Why?" "I think—I am not sure—but I shrewdly suspect that uncle Carden-Cox may come in for a talk. He is at home again. Madre could not stand that." "I couldn't," sighed Anice. "You will have to stand it, and a great deal besides. We must all three be brave, and keep up for madre's sake—and—" "And for Nigel's," added Daisy unsuspectingly. Fulvia flushed. "Yes. He has a great deal resting on him, and he will have hard work. Anice—Daisy—I want you both to promise me to be good and thoughtful—not to seem vexed and unhappy, whatever happens. Above all, don't let yourselves blame padre." "Why should we blame him?" asked Daisy.