How long those exquisite blue eyes of hers would have betrayed tokens of sorrow, had they not been quickly dried by a double-knock at the door of No. 14, must ever remain a problem. To be seen with red eyelids is an act of _lèse_ loveliness, which Honor would never, could she avoid it, have been guilty of committing. Her little coquettish veil, too, was ready at hand to hide any traces of past emotion that might have been visible on her countenance; so that Mrs. Norcott, who entered the room trippingly, and with the attempt at juvenile grace peculiar to that colonial lady of forty-two, saw no reason to suppose that her country guest was otherwise than cheerfully and contentedly disposed. Mrs. Norcott, in her London walking-dress, was not a person to be passed by without attracting due notice and comment. Attired in light delicate muslin, of a pattern and make better befitting a demoiselle in her teens, the fair Elizabeth probably imagined that she looked the character to which she evidently aspired--namely, a youthful matron in the pride and glory of early wifehood. A sash, tied behind _à l’enfant_, and a small hat of the species known as _turban_, served, doubtless, in her opinion, to complete the illusion. “How long _have_ you been here?” she exclaimed, coming forward with a rush, and embracing poor Honor with the impulsiveness popularly known as gushing. “You’ll be glad to hear that the Colonel is better--really quite another person than when I wrote to you. But sit down, do. We didn’t expect you just yet. The trains must be changed, I think, or the Bradshaw, or something. But how’s your good husband? _So_ kind of him to let you come!” And Mrs. Norcott, having established her guest by her side upon the slippery sofa, pressed, in token of matronly sympathy, the little hand which she still retained within her own. “I am afraid,” she went on to say, “that you’ll think the Colonel looking ill. When I wrote to you on Monday he was terribly low, poor fellow; quite depressed, you may say, about himself. Men are such cowards, you know, when there is anything the matter with them. Brave as a lion the Colonel is before the enemy, at least so I’ve heard--but on a sick-bed as troublesome, and more so, I may say, than a child.” “You must have had a trying time of it, I am sure,” Honor said sympathisingly. “I am not much of a nurse, I am afraid, but I will do my best; and as for sitting up at night, I am sure, though I don’t look very strong, I should not mind, it in the least; that is, I mean--” colouring with a recollection of Mrs. Beacham’s jealous guarding over her rights--“if you and my father would like me to be with him.” Mrs. Norcott laughed--a little foolishly Honor thought.