in the influence which a woman could exercise upon a man's life being
capable of changing his nature so completely as if a miracle had been
formed upon him. She had not had the courage to ask him if he had any
particular instance in his mind that impressed this belief upon him.

Had he been led to cast that infatuation--if he had ever been subjected
to it--behind him, by reason of her influence over him since she had
repeated to him the pathetic words of Mrs. Haddon, and he had gone
straight aboard the yacht on that strange cruise?

She could scarcely doubt that he was ready to acknowledge how great had
been her influence upon his life. He had shown her in countless ways
that she had accomplished all that she had sought to achieve. She
had had no need to throw herself at his head--the phrase which Ella
suggested her fellow-guests would probably employ in referring to the
relative positions of Phyllis and Herbert. No, she had ever found him
by her side, and it did not need her to exercise much cleverness to keep
him there.

But then, why had he so suddenly hurried away from that pleasant life
beside the still waters?

This was the question which was on her mind as the train ran into the
station at Paddington. She got out of the carriage, and while her maid
went to look after the luggage, she glanced down the platform for the
footman. He came up to her in a moment and took her dressing-bag and
jewel-case.

"The brougham is here, I suppose?" she said, as she walked down the
platform.

It was at the entrance to the station, he told her.

She paused for a moment, and glanced back to see if there had been much
luggage in the train which she had left--if her maid would be likely to
be kept waiting for long. At that instant a porter, with a portmanteau
on his shoulder and a Gladstone bag in his hand, hurrying up by the side
of the train which was ready to depart from the next platform, shouted
to a group of Eton boys who were blocking the way:

"By your leave, gents!"

She started and took a step to one side, and that instant was sufficient
to make her aware of the fact that the portmanteau carried by the
porter to the train which was about to leave for Maidenhead was Herbert
Courtland's. There was no mistaking it. It bore on one end his initials
and his private sign.

She took a few steps nearer the train by which she had come, and
followed the porter with her eyes.

He put the portmanteau into the luggage van,