othing, she stole up to the bed. She could just see his face, and eyes
looking up at her with a sort of adoration. She put her hand on his
forehead and whispered: "Are you comfy?"

He murmured back: "Yes, quite comfy."

Kneeling down, she laid her face beside his on the pillow. She could not
help doing that; it made everything seem holy, cuddley, warm. His lips
touched her nose. Her eyes, for just that instant, looked up into his,
that were very dark and soft; then she got up.

"Would you like me to stay till you're asleep?"

"Yes; forever. But I shouldn't exactly sleep. Would you?"

In the darkness Nedda vehemently shook her head. Sleep! No! She would
not sleep!

"Good night, then!"

"Good night, little dark angel!"

"Good night!" With that last whisper she slipped back to the door and
noiselessly away.

CHAPTER XXXVII

It was long before she closed her eyes, spending the hours in fancy where
still less she would have slept. But when she did drop off she dreamed
that he and she were alone upon a star, where all the trees were white,
the water, grass, birds, everything, white, and they were walking arm in
arm, among white flowers. And just as she had stooped to pick one--it
was no flower, but--Tryst's white-banded face! She woke with a little
cry.

She was dressed by eight and went at once to Derek's room. There was no
answer to her knock, and in a flutter of fear she opened the door. He
had gone--packed, and gone. She ran back to the hall. There was a note
for her in the office, and she took it out of sight to read. It said:

"He came back this morning. I'm going home by the first train. He seems
to want me to do something.
"DEREK."

Came back! That thing--that gray thing that she, too, had seemed to see
for a moment in the fields beside the river! And he was suffering again
as he had suffered yesterday! It was awful. She waited miserably till
her father came down. To find that he, too, knew of this trouble was
some relief. He made no objection when she begged that they should
follow on to Joyfields. Directly after breakfast they set out. Once on
her way to Derek again, she did not feel so frightened. But in the train
she sat very still, gazing at her lap, and only once glanced up from
under those long lashes.

"Can you understand it, Dad?"

Felix, not much happier than she, answered:

"The man had something queer about him. Besides Derek's been ill, don't
forge