s, and the opening of them brought back the first
resemblance to that Cassandra who had so horribly lost her identity.
Deeply, darkly blue they stared out of the disfigured face, met Dane's
adoring gaze, and gazed back. For a moment it seemed as though the
wraith of a smile were dawning in their depths, then pain claimed her
once more, and she groaned and winced, lifting a hand to her bruised
throat. It was a piteous little action, and Dane's self-possession
broke down at the sight. Once more he bent his head to hers. Once more
the caressing words burst forth.

"Darling, forgive me! I _had_ to do it!..." Then for the first time
Grizel felt a tremor pass through the figure of the girl by her side,
and looked with a pang into a set white face. Through her quick mind
flashed the realisation that here was another threatened death,--the
death of Teresa's youth... She laid a hand on the girl's shoulder, and
spoke in brisk, commonplace tones:

"She must be laid down. Collect the cushions and make a bed. She will
come round more quickly lying flat."

Teresa rose and with automatic obedience set about her work. Grizel
took advantage of her absence to seize Dane's arm between a vigorous
finger and thumb. Her eyes met his with a gleam of anger.

"Pull yourself together! Think what you are saying. Have you forgotten
that Teresa is here?"

Apparently he had. Even now when he was reminded, his blank look showed
that his mind was incapable of realising her existence. Grizel wasted
no more words. Nor indeed was there time, for Teresa came back carrying
the piled cushions. Their gay colour accentuated the pallor of her own
face, but she was composed as ever, and arranged an impromptu bed on the
grass with firm, capable hands.

"That's right. Perfectly flat; her head must not be raised. Now,
Captain Peignton! this way a please! Pacing the sea."

Peignton's answer was to entwine his arms more firmly; it seemed to the
watching eyes as if Cassandra herself nestled closer in response.
Grizel bent downwards, and forcibly unloosed the clasped hands.

"I am accustomed to nursing... you must obey me, please. You are doing
her harm, keeping off the air. Lay her down here. At once!"

Grizel had different ways of enforcing her will, but they were
invariably successful. The stem tone of command roused Peignton into
obedience. With painful effort he rose, laid his burden on the
cushions, and stood over her, straigh