“I thank you--for having told me the truth. It is always best to know the truth.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXXIII. ROSA’S REVELATIONS. After this there was no more said between Harcourt Lowther and Mrs. Tredethlyn upon the subject of her husband’s delinquencies. They walked slowly back to the stile, where Julia was sitting as quietly as if she had been that monumental Patience of whom the poet has told us. There is something wonderfully expressive in natural pantomime; and Miss Desmond, sitting on that rustic stile tracing figures from Euclid on the dusty pathway under her feet with the ivory point of her parasol, had yet contrived to keep a sharp watch upon those two people on the other side of the meadow, and to form a tolerably clear idea as to the gist of their conversation. “Julia dear,” Maude said, wearily, as they walked to the river-side, “would you mind going back to town as soon as we can get to the carriage? I have such an intolerable headache, that I’m sure I shall be quite unfit to dine with papa.” Of course Julia declared that dining in London or at the Cedars was equally indifferent to her. It was very often her humour to affect the dull characterless manner of a paid dependant; and it was her humour to do so just now. “I am afraid Mr. Lowther and I have kept you waiting an unconscionable time,” said Maude, looking at her watch. “Not at all,” replied Miss Desmond; “I rather like waiting.” Roderick Lowther and Miss Grunderson were loitering at the little landing-stage; the young lady’s showy draperies pre-Raffaelite in the sharp edges which she exhibited against the hot blue sky. “Oh, you darling Mrs. Tredethlyn!” exclaimed Rosa; “I thought you _never were_ coming. If your pa is half as particular about his dinner as mine is, won’t he be cross with us all! It’s close upon seven o’clock!” Maude looked piteously at Harcourt Lowther. He understood that appealing glance. “I have given Mrs. Tredethlyn a violent headache by putting her in an awningless boat under a broiling sun,” he said, “and then beguiling her into a fatiguing walk; and I deserve to be horsewhipped for my stupidity. If you have any regard for your friend’s health, Miss Grunderson, you will forego the pleasure of dining with Mr. Hillary, and get her home as quietly as you can.” Rosa Grunderson might be silly, but she was by no means stupid; and, looking at Maude’s ashen face, she saw that something more than a headache had caused the change in her friend. She saw this; and that vague distrust which she felt about the brother of the man she adored shaped itself into a positive dislike.