n help life on,
and how no one will give it you! All this--this tragedy--was for the time
defeated. She was, in triumph, doing something real for those she loved
and longed to do things for. She had Sheila's room.

For a week at least Derek asked no questions, made no allusion to the
mutiny, not even to the cause of his own disablement. It had been
impossible to tell whether the concussion had driven coherent
recollection from his mind, or whether he was refraining from an instinct
of self-preservation, barring such thoughts as too exciting. Nedda
dreaded every day lest he should begin. She knew that the questions
would fall on her, since no answer could possibly be expected from Granny
except: "It's all right, darling, everything's going on perfectly--only
you mustn't talk!"

It began the last day of June, the very first day that he got up.

"They didn't save the hay, did they?"

Was he fit to hear the truth? Would he forgive her if she did not tell
it? If she lied about this, could she go on lying to his other
questions? When he discovered, later, would not the effect undo the good
of lies now? She decided to lie; but, when she opened her lips, simply
could not, with his eyes on her; and said faintly: "Yes, they did."

His face contracted. She slipped down at once and knelt beside his
chair. He said between his teeth:

"Go on; tell me. Did it all collapse?"

She could only stroke his hands and bow her head.

"I see. What's happened to them?"

Without looking up, she murmured:

"Some have been dismissed; the others are working again all right."

"All right!"

She looked up then so pitifully that he did not ask her anything more.
But the news put him back a week. And she was in despair. The day he got
up again he began afresh:

"When are the assizes?"

"The 7th of August."

"Has anybody been to see Bob Tryst?"

"Yes; Aunt Kirsteen has been twice."

Having been thus answered, he was quiet for a long time. She had slipped
again out of her chair to kneel beside him; it seemed the only place from
which she could find courage for her answers. He put his hand, that had
lost its brown, on her hair. At that she plucked up spirit to ask:

"Would you like me to go and see him?"

He nodded.

"Then, I will--to-morrow."

"Don't ever tell me what isn't true, Nedda! People do; that's why I
didn't ask before."

She answered fervently:

"I won't! Oh, I won't!"

She dreaded this visit t