She sat there, huddled, trembling, her eyes burning, her throat dry. Oh! why wouldn't the carriage go faster! If only this storm would come and that terrible sky would break! She knew that Mrs. Rand and Daisy were away in the country and Lizzie went out very seldom. She would find her. She _must_ find her. She shuddered to think what she might do were Lizzie not at home. They were there. Yes, Miss Rand was at home: Rachel went in. Lizzie was sitting quietly by the open window, reading. She looked up and saw Rachel in a dress of black and gold, her face very pale, as she stood there in the doorway. "Lizzie dear--Lizzie." Rachel flung off her cloak, stood for a moment motionless, then without another word, huddled up on to the sofa and, her face buried in her arm, began to cry. Lizzie came across to her, took her hand, and sat there without speaking. After a long time she said, "Rachel dear. What is it?" Rachel clung to her, holding her fiercely. At last, looking up but away from Lizzie, she said, "Oh! if you hadn't been here. I don't know--I simply don't know what--I think it's this night. This awful night. It's so close and the storm is so long coming." "Has anything particular happened?" "Yes. The Duchess has told Roddy about--about Francis--or I think she has. Roddy's said nothing to me, but I ought to speak to him, to tell him.... I've put it off." Lizzie said softly. "You must tell him, Rachel. You know that you must. It's the only thing. I thought it would come to that sooner or later." "But it's more than that. I'm not well. I don't know what it is, but I've never felt like it before, and it makes me more frightened than I've ever been. To-night I've been more frightened." But Lizzie was thinking. "Has your grandmother told many people?" "I don't know. I know nothing; that's what makes it so hard. It's all had a climax to-night. There was an awful dinner at old Lady Carloes' and it was so hot and stuffy that I nearly fainted. I had to leave. And then, coming here ..." Rachel began to tremble again and, creeping close to Lizzie, she held her tighter. "Lizzie ... in the cab coming here ... Francis ... I had such thoughts. I couldn't have believed...." Lizzie's eyes gazed out into the square, far away--not like a Pool to-night, Mr. Breton. All hard and cruel and even the Nymph has no softness. She kissed Rachel. "It's the night, dear. When the weather's like this it affects one. London's awful to-night. There'll be such a storm soon." "But it's worse, Lizzie. I seem to-night to have seen myself as I am--more clearly than before. My priggishness--talking so much about Truth and then--the things I do. Roddy, Francis, all the same. I've treated them all badly. I've been true to no one. I'm no good...." "Promise me, dear, that you'll tell him--your husband--everything--to-morrow. Promise me." "But Lizzie, perhaps----" "No--no--no. Everything. To-morrow." "He'll hate me. He'll----" "No matter. You must. To-morrow."