Elfride's erratic mind had from her youth upwards been constantly
in the habit of perplexing her father by hypothetical questions,
based on absurd conditions. The present seemed to be cast so
precisely in the mould of previous ones that, not being given to
syntheses of circumstances, he answered it with customary
complacency.

'If he were allied to us irretrievably, of course I, or any
sensible man, should accept conditions that could not be altered;
certainly not be hopelessly melancholy about it. I don't believe
anything in the world would make me hopelessly melancholy. And
don't let anything make you so, either.'

'I won't, papa,' she cried, with a serene brightness that pleased
him.

Certainly Mr. Swancourt must have been far from thinking that the
brightness came from an exhilarating intention to hold back no
longer from the mad action she had planned.

In the evening he drove away towards Stratleigh, quite alone. It
was an unusual course for him. At the door Elfride had been again
almost impelled by her feelings to pour out all.

'Why are you going to Stratleigh, papa?' she said, and looked at
him longingly.

'I will tell you to-morrow when I come back,' he said cheerily;
'not before then, Elfride. Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not