Colwood were on the lawn, surreptitiously at work on
clothes for the child in the spinal jacket, who was soon going away to a
convalescent home, and had to be rigged out. The grass was strewn with
pieces of printed cotton and flannel, with books and work-baskets. But
they were not sitting where Ferrier had looked his last upon the world
three weeks before. There, under the tall limes, across the lawn, on
that sad and sacred spot, Diana meant in the autumn to plant a group of
cypresses (the tree of mourning) "for remembrance."
"Fanny!" cried Diana, in amazement, rising from her chair.
At her cousin's voice, Fanny halted, a few yards away.
"Well," she said, defiantly, "of course I know you didn't expect to see
me!"
Diana had grown very pale. Muriel saw a shiver run through her--the
shiver of the victim brought once more into the presence of
the torturer.
"I thought you were in London," she stammered, moving forward and
holding out her hand mechanically. "Please come and sit down." She
cleared a chair of the miscellaneous needlework upon it.
"I want to speak to you very particularly," said Fanny. "And it's
private!" She looked at Mrs.
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