“Cecil wishes to part then?  She has said nothing to me, but I see she has to you.  Don’t be annoyed, Raymond; it is in the nature of things.”

“I believe it is all Lady Tyrrell’s doing.  The mischief such a woman can do in the neighbourhood!”

“Perhaps it is only what any friend of Cecil would advise.”

“It is the very reverse of what I intended,” said Raymond, shading his face.

“My dear Raymond, I know what you meant, and what you wish; but I am also certain it is for no one’s happiness to go on in this way.”

He groaned.

“And the wife’s right comes first.”

“Not to this house.”

“But to this man.  Indeed I see more hope of your happiness now than I did last year.”

“What, because she has delivered herself over bound hand and foot to Camilla Vivian?”

“No, because she is altered.  Last year she was merely vexed at my position in the house.  Now she is vexed at my position with you.”

“Very unjustly.”

“Hardly so.  I should not have liked your father to be so much devoted to his mother.  Remember, jealousy is a smoke that cannot exist without some warmth.”

“If she had any proper feeling for me, she would show it by her treatment of you.”

“That would be asking too much when she thinks I engross you.”

“Mother, while you show such marvellous candour and generosity, and she—­”

“Hush!  Raymond, leave it unsaid!  We cannot expect her to see more than her own side of the question.  She has been put into an avowedly trying position, and does not deserve hard judgment for not being happy in it.  All that remains is to relieve her.  Whether by my moving or yours is the question.  I prefer the Church-house plan.”

“Either way is shame and misery to me,” broke out Raymond in a choked voice.

“Nonsense,” said his mother, trying to be cheerful.  “You made an impracticable experiment, that’s all.  Give Cecil free scope, let her feel that she has her due, and all will come right.”

“Nothing can be done till after the Wil’sbro’ business,” said Raymond, glad of the reprieve.  He could not bear the prospect of banishment for his mother or himself from the home to which both were rooted; and the sentence of detachment from her was especially painful when she seemed his only consolation for his wife’s perverseness.  Yet he was aware that he had been guilty of the original error, and was bound to give such compensation to his wife as was offered by his mother’s voluntary sacrifice.  He was slow to broach the subject, but only the next morning came a question about an invitation to a dull house.

“But,” said Cecil, “it is better than home.”  She spoke on purpose.

“I am sorry to hear you say so.”

“I can’t call it home where I am but a guest.”

“Well, Cecil, my mother offers to leave the home of her life and retire into Church-house.”