Then with a little swift move of her shoulders she shook off the fancies, and fell to considering the task which it seemed was laid before her. She had made a friend of Bernard Appleby and that meant much with her; while ever since she had heard Miss Clavier’s story the desire to right him had been growing stronger, but she had unpleasant misgivings. She felt the responsibility of breaking the smooth course of other lives almost too great for her, and wondered vaguely whether if she declared the truth in that sheltered land where nothing that was startling or indecorous ever seemed to happen anybody would believe her. She might even have kept silent had Violet Wayne been different, but Nettie already entertained an affection that was largely respectful for her, and determined that if she married Tony Palliser she should at least do so knowing what kind of man he was. Once more, however, her resolution almost failed her, and she glanced at the great glittering angel in the west window with a sense of her presumption in venturing to meddle with the great scheme of destiny. Still, Nettie was daring, and turning suddenly she looked down into the stone face again. “I think you would understand, and at least you would not be afraid. Well, the man who is very like you shall have his rights,” she said. The stillness seemed to grow more intense, the calm face more resolute, while the spirit of the dead sculptor’s conception gripped the girl as it had never done before. She felt that her duty was plain before her, and that fears and misgivings must be trampled on. Then there was a step behind her, and she saw Hester looking at her with a little smile. “Were you talking to the effigy, Nettie?” she said. “Yes,” said Nettie quietly. “I think I was. There is no reason you shouldn’t laugh if you want to, but I seem to fancy that man understands me. What you will not believe, however, is that he answered me.” Hester appeared a trifle astonished, but she smiled again. “I saw you turn and look at the figure in the west window,” she said. “Were you holding communion with the angel too?” “No,” said Nettie with a curious naive gravity. “I’m quite open to admit I don’t know much about angels—I’ve only seen pictures of them. Still, I sometimes think there’s a little of their nature in the hearts of men. That man must have had it, and the Palliser who was killed in Africa had it too. Of course, that’s not the kind of talk you would expect from an American.” Hester realized by the last trace of irony that Nettie did not desire to pursue the topic, and looking round saw that the vicar had joined them unobserved. He was a quiet man with an ascetic face, but there was a little twinkle in his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “I admit I overheard. It seems to me that Miss Harding’s attitude is perfectly comprehensible.”