fely put away. Look how the sunlight sparkles on those distant
ripples!"

"I have finished with the ripples thank you, darling. Helen, I know I've
been desperately ill. But I'm all right now, and I want you to tell me
all about it."

He saw her glance past him, at the man who sat reading on the next seat.

"Don't worry about him," he said. "He can't overhear. If you think he
can, let's move on."

"No, no!" said Helen, quickly. "We are so cosy here in the sunshine.
Ronnie, do you see those--"

"No, dear," he said, "I don't! At this moment I see nothing but you. And
I decline to have my attention drawn any more to the exciting things to
be seen on the shore at Hazelbeach in winter.... Oh, yes, I knew it was
Hazelbeach! Five years ago I spent a jolly week here with some friends.
We hired a little wooden hut and called it 'Buckingham Palace,' I
remember."

He slipped his hand into her muff, capturing both hers.

Her look of anxiety and alarm went to his heart. He had never seen Helen
frightened before; and he knew with unerring instinct that she was
afraid--_of him_.

It was hard; for he was desperately tired in mind and body. To subside
into passive acquiescence and watch the ripples again, would be the
easier way. But he must make a fight for his newly-recovered sanity and
reason, and to convince Helen in the matter seemed the first thing to be
accomplished.

Her hands were shaking in her muff. He held them firmly with his.

"Darling," he said, "I know I have been very bad. I was ill in Leipzig,
though I didn't know it. But Dick Cameron told me I ought not to have
been going about there. I suppose since then I have been quite off my
head. But, oh, Helen, can't you see--- can't you _see_, darling--that I
am all right again now? I can remember practically nothing which has
happened since I played my 'cello in front of the mirror in the studio.
But, up to that moment, I remember everything quite clearly; my travels,
my manuscript, the time when I began to get feverish and lost my
sleep--I can see now the very spot where I camped when I had my first
nightmare. Then working night and day on board ship, then Leipzig, the
Hague, London in a fog; then home--to you. Helen, it has all come back.
Can't you realise that the clouds have lifted; can't you believe, my own
dear girl, that my mind is clear again? Look at the sunshine on the sea,
dispelling the morning mists. _In hoc signo vinces!_ You said the path
of clear s