Henrietta sprang up, her cheeks vivid scarlet. "If I thought that I
would pursue him to the end of the earth, and murder her. But no; he is
not like anybody else. He hates me! Everybody hates me! You don't care
whether I am deserted or not, nor papa, nor anyone in this house."

Mrs. Jansenius, still indifferent to her daughter's agitation,
considered a moment, and then said placidly:

"You can do nothing until we hear from the solicitor. In the meantime
you may stay with us, if you wish. I did not expect a visit from you so
soon; but your room has not been used since you went away."

Mrs. Trefusis ceased crying, chilled by this first intimation that her
father's house was no longer her home. A more real sense of desolation
came upon her. Under its cold influence she began to collect herself,
and to feel her pride rising like a barrier between her and her mother.

"I won't stay long," she said. "If his solicitor will not tell me where
he is, I will hunt through England for him. I am sorry to trouble you."

"Oh, you will be no greater trouble than you have always been," said
Mrs. Jansenius calmly, not displeased to see that her daughter had taken
the hint. "You had better go and wash your face. People may call, and
I presume you don't wish to receive them in that plight. If you meet
Arthur on the stairs, please tell him he may come in."

Henrietta screwed her lips into a curious pout and withdrew. Arthur then
came in and stood at the window in sullen silence, brooding over his
recent expulsion. Suddenly he exclaimed: "Here's papa, and it's not five
o'clock yet!" whereupon his mother sent him away again.