would come and dine and let her ladyship take her。 She should have
only one of her own girls； Gwendolen Vesey was to take the other。
Rose handed both the note and the card in silence to her mother； the
latter exhibited only the name of Miss Tramore。 〃You had much better
go； dear；〃 her mother said； in answer to which Miss Tramore slowly
tore up the documents； looking with clear； meditative eyes out of the
window。 Her mother always said 〃You had better go〃there had been
other incidentsand Rose had never even once taken account of the
observation。 She would make no first advances； only plenty of second
ones； and； condoning no discrimination； would treat no omission as
venial。 She would keep all concessions till afterwards； then she
would make them one by one。 Fighting society was quite as hard as
her grandmother had said it would be； but there was a tension in it
which made the dreariness vibratethe dreariness of such a winter as
she had just passed。 Her companion had cried at the end of it； and
she had cried all through； only her tears had been private； while her
mother's had fallen once for all； at luncheon on the bleak Easter
Mondayproduced by the way a silent survey of the deadly square
brought home to her that every creature but themselves was out of
town and having tremendous fun。 Rose felt that it was useless to
attempt to explain simply by her mourning this severity of solitude；
for if people didn't go to parties （at least a few didn't） for six
months after their father died； this was the very time other people
took for coming to see them。 It was not too much to say that during
this first winter of Rose's period with her mother she had no
communication whatever with the world。 It had the effect of making
her take to reading the new American books： she wanted to see how
girls got on by themselves。 She had never read so much before； and
there was a legitimate indifference in it when topics failed with her
mother。 They often failed after the first days； and then； while she
bent over instructive volumes； this lady； dressed as if for an
impending function； sat on the sofa and watched her。 Rose was not
embarrassed by such an appearance； for she could reflect that； a
little before； her companion had not even a girl who had taken refuge
in queer researches to look at。 She was moreover used to her
mother's attitude by this time。 She had her own description of it：
it was the attitude of waiting for the carriage。 If they didn't go
out it was not that Mrs。 Tramore was not ready in time； and Rose had
even an alarmed prevision of their some day always arriving first。
Mrs。 Tramore's conversation at such moments was abrupt； inconsequent
and personal。 She sat on the edge of sofas and chairs and glanced
occasionally at the fit of her gloves （she was perpetually gloved；
and the fit was a thing it was melancholy to see wasted）； as people
do who are expecting guests to dinner。 Rose used almost to fancy
herself at times a perfunctory husband on the other side of the fire。
What she was not yet used tothere was still a charm in itwas her
mother's extraordinary tact。 During the years they lived together
they never had a discussion； a circumstance all the more remarkable
since if the girl had a reason for sparing her companion （that of
being sorry for her） Mrs。 Tramore had none for sparing her child。
She only showed in doing so a happy instinctthe happiest thing
about her。 She took in perfection a course which represented
everything and covered everything； she utterly abjured all authority。
She testified to her abjuration in hourly ingenious； touching ways。
In this manner nothing had to be talked over； which was a mercy all
round。 The tears on Easter Monday were merely a nervous gust； to
help show she was not a Christmas doll from the Burlington Arcade；
and there was no lifting up of the repentant Magdalen； no uttered
remorse for the former abandonment of children。 Of the way she could
treat her children her demeanour to this one was an example； it was
an uninterrupted appeal to her eldest daughter for direction。 She
took the law from Rose in every circumstance； and if you had noticed
these ladies without knowing their history you would have wondered
what tie was fine enough to make maturity so respectful to youth。 No
mother was ever so filial as Mrs。 Tramore； and there had never been
such a difference of position between sisters。 Not that the elder
one fawned； which would have been fearful； she only renounced
whatever she had to renounce。 If the amount was not much she at any
rate made no scene over it。 Her hand was so light that Rose said of
her secretly； in vague glances at the past； 〃No wonder people liked
her！〃 She never characterised the old element of interference with
her mother's respectability more definitely than as 〃people。〃 They
were people； it was true； for whom gentleness must have been
everything and who didn't demand a variety of interests。 The desire
to 〃go out〃 was the one passion that even a closer acquaintance with
her parent revealed to Rose Tramore。 She marvelled at its strength；
in the light of the poor lady's history： there was comedy enough in
this unquenchable flame on the part of a woman who had known such
misery。 She had drunk deep of every dishonour； but the bitter cup
had left her with a taste for lighted candles； for squeezing up
staircases and hooking herself to the human elbow。 Rose had a vision
of the future years in which this taste would grow with restored
exerciseof her mother； in a long…tailed dress； jogging on and on
and on； jogging further and further from her sins； through a century
of the 〃Morning Post〃 and down the fashionable avenue of time。 She
herself would then be very oldshe herself would be dead。 Mrs。
Tramore would cover a span of life for which such an allowance of sin
was small。 The girl could laugh indeed now at that theory of her
being dragged down。 If one thing were more present to her than
another it was the very desolation of their propriety。 As she
glanced at her companion； it sometimes seemed to her that if she had
been a bad woman she would have been worse than that。 There were
compensations for being 〃cut〃 which Mrs。 Tramore too much neglected。
The lonely old lady in Hill StreetRose thought of her that way now…
…was the one person to whom she was ready to say that she would come
to her on any terms。 She wrote this to her three times over； and she
knocked still oftener at her door。 But the old lady answered no
letters； if Rose had remained in Hill Street it would have been her
own function to answer them； and at the door； the butler； whom the
girl had known for ten years； considered her； when he told her his
mistress was not at home； quite as he might have considered a young
person who had come about a place and of whose eligibility he took a
negative view。 That was Rose's one pang； that she probably appeared
rather heartless。 Her aunt Julia had gone to Florence with Edith for
the winter； on purpose to make her appear more so； for Miss Tramore
was still the person most scandalised by her secession。 Edith and
she； doubtless； often talked over in Florence the destitution of the
aged victim in Hill Street。 Eric never came to see his sister；
because； being full both of family and of personal feeling； he
thought she really ought to have stayed with his grandmother。 If she
had had such an appurtenance all to herself she might have done what
she liked with it； but he couldn't forgive such a want of
consideration for anything of his。 There were moments when Rose
would have been ready to take her hand from the plough and insist
upon reintegration； if only the fierce voice of the old house had
allowed people to look her up。 But she read； ever so clearly； that
her grandmother had made this a question of loyalty to seventy years
of virtue。 Mrs。 Tramore's forlornness didn't prevent her drawing…
room from being a very public place； in which Rose could hear certain
words reverberate： 〃Leave her alone； it's the only way to see how
long she'll hold out。〃 The old woman's visitors were people who
didn't wish to quarrel； and the girl was conscious that if they had
not let her alonethat is if they had come to her from her
grandmothershe might perhaps not have held out。 She had no friends
quite of her own； she had not been brought up to have them； and it
would not have been easy in a house which two such persons as her
father and his mother divided between them。 Her father disapproved
of crude intimacies； and all the intimacies of youth were crude。 He
had married at five…and…twenty and could testify to such a truth。
Rose felt that she shared even Captain Jay with her grandmother； she
had seen what HE was worth。 Moreover； she had spoken to him at that
last moment in Hill Street in a way which； taken with her former
refusal； made it impossible that he should come near her again。 She
hoped he went to see his protectress： he could be a kind of
substitute and administer comfort。
It so happened； however； that the day after she threw Lady
Maresfield's invitation into the wastepaper basket she received a
visit from a certain Mrs。 D