"But—"

"Time is precious. We shall do better alone."

The night was wellnigh spent and the moon hung
low in the west when James Marjoy, haggard of face
and weary about the eyes, came down to Blanche Gus-
set in the dining-room. A single candle burned upon
the mantel-piece. Blanche, white as the bed-gown under
her dressing-jacket, ran to the doctor and held his arm.
Her eyes had that strange and terrible earnestness so
tragic when seen in the eyes of a woman.
"Well?"

"We were in time." •

"Doctor—"

"Your sister will recover."

"Thank God! thank God!"

She kissed James Marjoy's hand and flung herself
upon a sofa, weeping unrestrainedly like a little child.
367



XLVI

GABRIEL STRONG came up the road from Ril-
chester, swinging along between the high hedge-
rows, with the morning sun behind him. The sky was
of Umitless blue above, and beyond the deep woods and
the green meadows rose Cambron Head, a purple height
stemming the greens and azures of the sea. So lusty
was the sunlight that the sand and shingle edging the
great bay gleamed like bronze above the foam.
Gabriel, leaving the high-road, struck out a path over
the meadows. The tall grass was ablaze with flowers —
buttercups and golden trefoil, great white daisies, clover,
purple vetches, delicate flax. Wild roses were opening
upon the hedges. Odors of honeysuckle and of hay
were in the air.
