their solicitors. That had put them on the
track again. If the law forced her back to her husband, it was I who had
helped him to find her. That was a maddening thought. My love for her
was hopeless; but what then? I discovered to my own amazement that I had
loved her for her sake, not my own. I had loved the woman in herself,
not the woman as my wife. She could never become that, but she was
dearer to me than ever. She was as far removed from me as from Tardif.
Could I not serve her with as deep a devotion and as true a chivalry as
his? She belonged to both of us by as unselfish and noble a bond as ever
knights of old were pledged to.

It became my duty to keep a strict watch over the woman who had come to
Guernsey to find Olivia. If possible I must decoy her away from the
lowly nest where my helpless bird was sheltered. She had not sent for me
again, but I called upon her the next morning professionally, and stayed
some time talking with her. But nothing resulted from the visit beyond
the assurance that she had not yet made any progress toward the
discovery of my secret. I almost marvelled at this, so universal had
been the gossip about my visits to Sark in connection with the
breaking-off of my engagement to Julia. But that had occurred in the
spring, and the nine-days' wonder had ceased before my patient came to
the island. Still, any accidental conversation might give her the
information, and open up a favorable chance for her. I must not let her
go across to Sark unknown to myself.

Neither did I feel quite safe about Kate Daltrey. She gave me the
impression of being as crafty and cunning as she described her
half-brother. Did she know this woman by sight? That was a question I
could not answer. There was another question hanging upon it. If she saw
her, would she not in some way contrive to give her a sufficient hint,
without positively breaking her promise to Julia? Kate Daltrey's name
did not appear in the newspapers among the list of visitors, as she was
staying in a private house; but she and this woman might meet any day in
the streets or on the pier.

Then the whole story had been confided by Julia at once to Captain Carey
and Johanna. That was quite natural; but it was equally natural for them
to confide it again to some one or two of their intimate friends. The
secret was already an open one among six persons. Could it be considered
a secret any longer? The tendency of such a singular story, whispered