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