He explained to her that the estate had been neglected and was now the subject of an experiment; but it seemed to her that the level fields through which the drive extended had already come under the influence of his orderly mind. To everything that Considine undertook there clung an atmosphere of formal precision that suggested nothing so much as the eighteenth century. The Manor, suddenly sweeping into view from behind a plantation of ilex, confirmed this impression. It was such a house as Considine must inevitably have chosen, a solid Georgian structure, square and sombre, with a pillared portico in front shading the entrance and its flanking windows. The window panes of the upper storey blazed in the setting sun. In the hall Gabrielle Considine awaited them. She was dressed in black--probably she was still in mourning for Jocelyn--with a white muslin collar such as a widow might have worn. To Mrs. Payne, by an unconscious personal contrast, she seemed very tall and graceful and exceedingly well-bred. No doubt Considine had prepared the way for this impression. On the drive up he had spoken several times of Lord Halberton, "my wife's cousin." Mrs. Considine's voice was very soft, with the least hint of Irish in it, an inflection rather than a brogue. Her hands, her neck and her face were very white. Possibly her skin seemed whiter because of the blackness of her hair and of her dress and the beautiful shape of her pale hands. Curiously enough, the chief impression she made on Mrs. Payne was not the obvious one of youth; and this shows that Gabrielle, outwardly, at any rate, had changed enormously in the last year. Mrs. Payne did not know then, and certainly would never have guessed, that the lady of the house was under twenty years of age. She only saw a creature full of grace, of dignity, and of quietness, and she knew that Considine was proud of these qualities that his wife displayed. There was nothing to suggest that the pair were not completely happy in their marriage. After dinner they proceeded to business. They sat together in the drawing-room, Mrs. Considine busy with her embroidery at a small table apart, while her husband, capably judicial, begged Mrs. Payne to tell him the peculiar features of Arthur's case. She found Considine sympathetic, and the telling so easy that she was able to express herself naturally in the most embarrassing part of her story. Considine helped her with small encouragements. Gabrielle said nothing, bending over her work while she listened. Indeed, she had scarcely spoken a dozen words since Mrs. Payne's arrival. When she came to the episode of Arthur's expulsion from the school at Cheltenham, Considine made an uneasy gesture suggesting that his wife should retire, and Gabrielle quietly rose.