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It
was
as
though
Fraser
Leath
’
s
ideas
,
accustomed
to
hang
like
marionettes
on
their
pegs
,
should
suddenly
come
down
and
walk
.
There
were
moments
,
indeed
,
when
Owen
’
s
humours
must
have
suggested
to
his
progenitor
the
gambols
of
an
infant
Frankenstein
;
but
to
Anna
they
were
the
voice
of
her
secret
rebellions
,
and
her
tenderness
to
her
step
-
son
was
partly
based
on
her
severity
toward
herself
.
As
he
had
the
courage
she
had
lacked
,
so
she
meant
him
to
have
the
chances
she
had
missed
;
and
every
effort
she
made
for
him
helped
to
keep
her
own
hopes
alive
.
Her
interest
in
Owen
led
her
to
think
more
often
of
his
mother
,
and
sometimes
she
would
slip
away
and
stand
alone
before
her
predecessor
’
s
portrait
.
Since
her
arrival
at
Givre
the
picture
—
a
“
full
-
length
”
by
a
once
fashionable
artist
—
had
undergone
the
successive
displacements
of
an
exiled
consort
removed
farther
and
farther
from
the
throne
;
and
Anna
could
not
help
noting
that
these
stages
coincided
with
the
gradual
decline
of
the
artist
’
s
fame
.
She
had
a
fancy
that
if
his
credit
had
been
in
the
ascendant
the
first
Mrs
.
Leath
might
have
continued
to
throne
over
the
drawing
-
room
mantel
-
piece
,
even
to
the
exclusion
of
her
successor
’
s
effigy
.
Instead
of
this
,
her
peregrinations
had
finally
landed
her
in
the
shrouded
solitude
of
the
billiard
-
room
,
an
apartment
which
no
one
ever
entered
,
but
where
it
was
understood
that
“
the
light
was
better
,
”
or
might
have
been
if
the
shutters
had
not
been
always
closed
.
Here
the
poor
lady
,
elegantly
dressed
,
and
seated
in
the
middle
of
a
large
lonely
canvas
,
in
the
blank
contemplation
of
a
gilt
console
,
had
always
seemed
to
Anna
to
be
waiting
for
visitors
who
never
came
.
“
Of
course
they
never
came
,
you
poor
thing
!
I
wonder
how
long
it
took
you
to
find
out
that
they
never
would
?
”
Anna
had
more
than
once
apostrophized
her
,
with
a
derision
addressed
rather
to
herself
than
to
the
dead
;
but
it
was
only
after
Effie
’
s
birth
that
it
occurred
to
her
to
study
more
closely
the
face
in
the
picture
,
and
speculate
on
the
kind
of
visitors
that
Owen
’
s
mother
might
have
hoped
for
.
“
She
certainly
doesn
’
t
look
as
if
they
would
have
been
the
same
kind
as
mine
:
but
there
’
s
no
telling
,
from
a
portrait
that
was
so
obviously
done
‘
to
please
the
family
’
,
and
that
leaves
Owen
so
unaccounted
for
.
Well
,
they
never
came
,
the
visitors
;
they
never
came
;
and
she
died
of
it
.
She
died
of
it
long
before
they
buried
her
:
I
’
m
certain
of
that
.
Those
are
stone
-
dead
eyes
in
the
picture
.
.
.
.
The
loneliness
must
have
been
awful
,
if
even
Owen
couldn
’
t
keep
her
from
dying
of
it
.
And
to
feel
it
so
she
must
have
had
feelings
—
real
live
ones
,
the
kind
that
twitch
and
tug
.
And
all
she
had
to
look
at
all
her
life
was
a
gilt
console
—
yes
,
that
’
s
it
,
a
gilt
console
screwed
to
the
wall
!
That
’
s
exactly
and
absolutely
what
he
is
!
”
She
did
not
mean
,
if
she
could
help
it
,
that
either
Effie
or
Owen
should
know
that
loneliness
,
or
let
her
know
it
again
.
They
were
three
,
now
,
to
keep
each
other
warm
,
and
she
embraced
both
children
in
the
same
passion
of
motherhood
,
as
though
one
were
not
enough
to
shield
her
from
her
predecessor
’
s
fate
.
Sometimes
she
fancied
that
Owen
Leath
’
s
response
was
warmer
than
that
of
her
own
child
.
But
then
Effie
was
still
hardly
more
than
a
baby
,
and
Owen
,
from
the
first
,
had
been
almost
“
old
enough
to
understand
”
:
certainly
did
understand
now
,
in
a
tacit
way
that
yet
perpetually
spoke
to
her
.
This
sense
of
his
understanding
was
the
deepest
element
in
their
feeling
for
each
other
.
There
were
so
many
things
between
them
that
were
never
spoken
of
,
or
even
indirectly
alluded
to
,
yet
that
,
even
in
their
occasional
discussions
and
differences
,
formed
the
unadduced
arguments
making
for
final
agreement
.
.
.
Musing
on
this
,
she
continued
to
watch
his
approach
;
and
her
heart
began
to
beat
a
little
faster
at
the
thought
of
what
she
had
to
say
to
him
.
But
when
he
reached
the
gate
she
saw
him
pause
,
and
after
a
moment
he
turned
aside
as
if
to
gain
a
cross
-
road
through
the
park
.
She
started
up
and
waved
her
sunshade
,
but
he
did
not
see
her
.
No
doubt
he
meant
to
go
back
with
the
gamekeeper
,
perhaps
to
the
kennels
,
to
see
a
retriever
who
had
hurt
his
leg
.
Suddenly
she
was
seized
by
the
whim
to
overtake
him
.
She
threw
down
the
parasol
,
thrust
her
letter
into
her
bodice
,
and
catching
up
her
skirts
began
to
run
.
