't help wondering sometimes."
Scott's voice was very sad. "She was left so terribly desolate," he said.
"Those letters that you saw last night are all she has of him. He has
gone, and taken the mainspring of her life with him. I hate to think of
what followed. They sent up a doctor from the nearest station, and she
was taken away,--taken by force. When I got to her three weeks later, she
was mad, raving mad, with brain fever. I had the old nurse Biddy with me.
We nursed her between us. We brought her back to what she is now. Some
day, please God, we shall get her quite back again; but whether it will
be for her happiness He only knows."

Scott ceased to speak. His brows were drawn as the brows of a man in
pain.

Dinah's eyes were full of tears. "Oh, thank you for telling me! Thank
you!" she murmured. "I do hope you will get her quite back, as you say."

He looked at her, saw her tears, and put out a gentle hand that rested
for a moment upon her arm. "I am afraid I have made you unhappy. Forgive
me! You are so sympathetic, and I have taken advantage of it. I think we
shall get her back. She is coming very, very gradually. She has never
before taken such an interest in anyone as she took in you last night.
She was talking of you again this morning. She has taken a fancy to you.
I hope you don't mind."

"Mind!" Dinah choked a little and smiled a quivering smile. "I am
proud--very proud. I only wish I deserved it. What--what made you bring
her here?"

"That was my brother's idea. Since we brought her home she has never been
away, except once on the yacht; and then she was so miserable that we
were afraid to keep her there. But he thought a thorough change--mountain
air--might do her good. The doctor was not against it. So we came."

"And do you never leave her?" questioned Dinah.

"Practically never. Ever since that awful time in India she has been very
dependent upon me. Biddy of course is quite indispensable to her. And I
am nearly so."

"You have given yourself up to her in fact?" Quick admiration was in
Dinah's tone.

He smiled. "It didn't mean so much to me as it would have meant to some
men, Miss Bathurst,--as it would have meant to Eustace, for instance. I'm
not much of a man. To give up my college career and settle down at home
wasn't such a great wrench. I'm not especially clever. I act as my
brother's secretary, and we find it answers very well. He is a rich man,
and there is a good deal of business in