er it likely."

Avery's face was very pale, but still she did not flinch. "Will she
suffer?" she asked.

He raised his brows at the question. "My dear lady, she has suffered
already far more than you have any idea of. One lung is practically gone,
wholly useless. The other is rapidly going the same way. She has probably
suffered for a year or more, first lassitude, then shortness of breath,
and pretty often actual pain. Hasn't she complained of these things?"

"She is a child who never complains," Avery said. "But both her mother
and I thought she was wasting."

"She is mere skin and bone," he said. "Now--about her people, Lady
Evesham; who is going to tell them? You or I?"

She hesitated. "But I could hardly ask you to do that," she said.

"You may command me in any way," he answered. "If I may presume to
advise, I should say that the best course would be for me to go to
Rodding, see the doctor there, and get him to take me to the Vicarage."

"Oh, but they mustn't take her from me!" Avery said. "Let her mother come
here! She can't--she mustn't--go back home!"

"Exactly what I was going to say," he returned, in his quiet practical
fashion. "To take her back there would be madness. But look here, Lady
Evesham, you must have a nurse."

"Oh, not yet!" said Avery. "I am quite strong now. I am used to nursing.
I have--no other call upon me. Let me do this!"

"None?" he said.

His tone re-called her. She coloured burningly. "My husband--would
understand," she said, with difficulty.

He passed the matter by. "Will you promise to send me a message if you
find night-nursing a necessity?"

She hesitated.

He frowned. "Lady Evesham, you must promise me this in fairness to the
child as well as to yourself. Also, you will give me your word that you
will never under any circumstances sleep with her."

She saw that he would have his way, and she yielded both points rather
than fight a battle which instinct warned her she could not win.

"Then I will be going," he said.

He turned back into the room, and again she was aware of his green eyes
surveying her closely, critically. But he made no reference whatever to
her health, and inwardly she blessed him for his forbearance.

She did not know that as he rode away, he grimly remarked to himself:
"The best tonics generally taste the bitterest, and she'll drink this one
to the dregs, poor girl! But it'll help her in the end."

CHAPTER II

THE TIDE COMES BACK