e a normal creature. It is no wonder if I wax hysterical
at times. It's not exactly a pleasant prospect to look forward and
picture _that_ fate in store. You must make allowances for occasional
outbursts."

He stood above her, looking down with dark, intent eyes as though he
would see into the very heart of her being.

"When were you warned? Lately? Since I was here last? Is that what is
troubling you now?"

"I saw the doctor last summer. He warned me then, but I had known the
facts for two years before that. They had been hidden from me, but I
found them out, and went to the doctor for advice."

"A year ago! You have known all these months when you have been happy
and gay? Then this has nothing to do with to-day. What is troubling
you to-day?"

She looked at him blankly. On his face was a great sympathy, a great
tenderness, but no sign of the horror and amazement which she had
expected. The great tragedy of her family seemed to weigh as nothing as
compared to her grief of to-day. The tears rose in her eyes, but they
were tears of relief. Her voice faltered in pitiful, childlike fashion.

"I was lonely, and I remembered, and I was afraid--afraid to look
forward..."

He bent down and took her hands in his with a firm but gentle pressure.

"Get up! You are not lonely any more. My horse is in the village. Go
and get ready, and we will have a ride." He strengthened his grasp,
looking deep into her eyes. "What does it matter to me if every soul
belonging to you were mad? You are the sweetest, the _sanest_ woman I
have ever met."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE COMPANY OF SAINTS.

From that day forward Vanna deliberately shut her eyes to the barriers
which blocked her life, and gave herself up to the joy of the present.
Piers knew her dread secret, and the knowledge would surely be
sufficient to put any thought of her as a wife out of his mind, if
indeed such a thought had existed. Her conscience being clear that he
at least would not suffer through a continuance of their intimacy, she
for her own part was ready to pay the price of future suffering for the
rich joy of the present. The joy would not, could not last, but it was
better, a thousand times better, to taste the full flavour of life, even
if but for a few short months, than to drag on to old age ignorant of
the deepest experiences which can stir the human soul. If suffering
must come, knowledge would come with it--comprehension, symp