Late though it was, she read a few verses from her Bible; a perfunctory matter commonly; and not less so now than usual. She could not have told five minutes afterwards what she had read. Then she knelt down, leaning against the back of a chair, with a feeling of utter weariness. What did it matter whether she prayed or not? What did anything matter? Fulvia had prayed seldom hitherto—really prayed. There had been no especial connection between her morning and evening "saying" of prayers, and the everyday life lived between. Now, as usual, she only murmured a few unmeaning phrases, and when she rose no help had come, for she had not sought it. In her trouble she turned to self only, resting on her own strength of will. Fulvia was a girl of steady principle and of noble impulses; but as yet she had never given over the guidance of her barque to the hand of the Master-Pilot. There was danger of its being swept to and fro out of the right course, by wind and wave, against her will. "Yes, that will do," she said, before putting out her light. "Nigel shall be happy, at all events. I always have said that if one really cares for another, one can wish nothing so much as his happiness. Well, I have to prove it now. Nobody shall ever guess! That has to be crushed down—crushed!" And she clenched her teeth. "I will be mistress of myself. And if I have any power to smooth things for him and Ethel, I will do it." The resolution was praiseworthy; but would she have strength to carry it out? CHAPTER V IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT "Rather, steel thy melting heart To act the martyr's sternest part, To watch with firm unshrinking eye Thy darling visions as they die, Till all bright hopes and hues of day Have faded into twilight grey."—_Christian Year._ "WHAT is Nigel going to do with himself to-day?" asked Daisy next morning. Breakfast—supposed to begin at nine, seldom in reality before half-past—was nearly over. People had dropped in at intervals till all were present except Mr. Browning. Fulvia, for a marvel, had been one of the last instead of the first to appear, and she had to endure some banter from Daisy, replying thereto with spirit. It had seemed to Fulvia before coming downstairs that her pale cheeks, and the dark shades under her eyes, must surely be remarked upon. But nobody seemed to see anything unusual. Fulvia had always been strong, and was almost always well. Nobody expected her to be otherwise, and people in general are not, observant. Mrs. Browning was absorbed in thought about her husband, and the girls were absorbed in attentions to Nigel, while Nigel laughed and joked with them, and Fulvia knew that his mind was away at the Rectory. She could see "Ethel" written on every line of his face; and she knew that he was not noticing her at all. In one sense it might be a relief that none should observe more keenly, for the part she had to act became easier thereby.