y futile
years, heard at last a movement as of someone stirring within, and a
hand upon the disused latch.

CHAPTER XXX

O Yanna, Adrianna,
They buried me away
In the blue fathoms of the deep,
Beyond the outer bay.

But in the Yule, O Yanna,
Up from the round dim sea
And reeling dungeons of the fog
I am come back to thee!

--BLISS CARMAN.

Wentworth stood at the open window of the library watching Michael.

Michael was lying on a deck chair on the terrace playing with a puppy.
His face was losing a certain grey drawn look which it had worn since he
had left prison. He looked more like himself since his hair had time to
grow. Wentworth felt that he ought to be reassured about him, but a
vague anxiety harassed him.

Suddenly, without a moment's warning, the puppy fell asleep. Michael
made a movement to reach it, but it was just beyond his grasp.

In an instant Wentworth was beside him, lifting the sleeping mass of
sleek fat on to Michael's knee. Michael's long hands made a little crib
for it.

"He will sleep now for a bit," he said contentedly.

"Do _you_ sleep better?" said Wentworth. He had not forgotten those
first nights at Venice when Michael's feeble step had dragged itself to
and fro in the next room half the night.

"I sleep like a top. I'm asleep half the time."

"You are much better the last few days."

"Oh! I'm all right."

"All Hampshire has been to call. I knew you would be bored, so I did not
let them disturb you."

"Thanks."

"Is there anyone you would like to see?"

"No one that I know of."

"No one at _all_?"

Michael made a mental effort which did not escape Wentworth.

"I should like very much to see--presently--if it could be done----"

"Yes," said Wentworth eagerly. "Of _course_ it can be done, my dear boy.
You would like to see?"

"Doctor Filippi," said Michael, looking deprecatingly at Wentworth. "He
was so good to me. And I am accustomed to seeing him. I miss him all the
time. I wonder whether you would let him come and stay here for his
holiday. He generally takes it in June. And--let me see--it's May now,
isn't it?"

Wentworth's heart swelled with jealousy and disappointment. The jealousy
was of the doctor, the disappointment was about Fay. The larger of the
two emotions was jealousy.

"You have sent Doctor Filippi a very handsome present," he said coldly.
"I chose it for you, a silver salver. I went up to Lo