his happiness,
the coming wedding; saw him located at the Manor with his bride by his
side, bringing her over to the Cottage, sitting beside her in the Happy
Land. The future was desolated; and the past? The past also crumbled
to nothingness before this shock of self-revelation. Where now was the
peace and conquest on which she had congratulated herself during the
last few months? Not only had they disappeared, but it appeared that
they had never existed. That lightsome frame of mind, which she
believed to have been gained as a reward for duty well done, had in
reality been nothing more or less than the dawnings of love; the deep
undercurrent of joy and hope which had lain beneath the surface of her
life.

Vanna hid her face in her hands. At that moment the sight of the gay,
smiling scene seemed but to mock her grief. She felt a wild longing for
winter, for the stormy sky and sea, the frowning cliff, which would be a
fit setting for her life. How could she go on tending Miggles, sitting
quietly in the house, separated from Piers, seeing him with another?

The sound of footsteps startled her from her trance--ascending
footsteps, scaling upwards from the beach. She straightened herself,
thrust back her hair, and struggled to compose her features. It seemed
part of the same dull trance that it should be Piers's face which rose
into sight, his dark eyes which turned anxiously to her face. She had
not known of his coming, but she was not surprised; a stupor of
indifference had succeeded the passion of despair; she felt no surprise,
no embarrassment, but sat watching him stonily, until he reached the
last step and stood by her side.

"Was that _you_ laughing just now? I heard you as I came along the
shore. It _was_ you?"

"Yes, it was I."

"And now you are crying!" His tone was quick and tense with anxiety.
"What is the matter? You are not well. Something has been troubling
you. It is not like you to be hysterical."

Vanna's lips curled, her eyes stared steadily into his. A sudden
impulse seized her, and she gave herself no time to pause.

"And why not? On the contrary, it is just what you might expect. There
is no counting on what I may do. My moods are very variable, but you
must make excuses for me. There is madness in my family. My father
died in an asylum, and my grandmother, and two aunts. I have been
warned that I may have the same fate in store. You can hardly expect me
to behave lik