upon her as my
adopted daughter."

"I should like to be remembered to her."

"You shall be," said Sir James, rising. "I will give her your message.
Meanwhile, may I tell Lady Lucy that you feel a little easier
this morning?"

Oliver slowly and sombrely shook his head. Then, however, he made a
visible effort.

"But I want to see her. Will you tell her?"

Lady Lucy, however, was already in the room. Probably she had heard the
message from the open doorway where she often hovered. Oliver held out
his hand to her, and she stooped and kissed him. She asked him a few
low-voiced questions, to which he mostly answered by a shake of the
head. Then she attempted some ordinary conversation, during which it was
very evident that the sick man wished to be left alone.

She and Sir James retreated to her sitting-room, and there Lady Lucy,
sitting helplessly by the fire, brushed away some tears of which she was
only half conscious. Sir James walked up and down, coming at last to a
stop beside her.

"It seems to me this is as much a moral as a physical breakdown. Can
nothing be done to take him out of himself?--give him fresh heart?"

"We have tried everything--suggested everything. But it seems impossible
to rouse him to make an effort."

Sir James resumed his walk--only to come to another stop.

"Do you know--that he just now--sent a message by me to Miss Mallory?"

Lady Lucy started.

"Did he?" she said, faintly, her eyes on the blaze. He came up to her.

"_There_ is a woman who would never have deserted you!--or him!" he
said, in a burst of irrepressible feeling, which would out.

Lady Lucy's glance met his--silently, a little proudly. She said nothing
and presently he took his leave.

* * * * *

The day wore on. A misty sunshine enwrapped the beech woods. The great
trees stood marked here and there by the first fiery summons of the
frost. Their supreme moment was approaching which would strike them,
head to foot, into gold and amber, in a purple air. Lady Lucy took her
drive among them as a duty, but between her and the enchanted woodland
there was a gulf fixed.

She paid a visit to Oliver, trembling, as she always did, lest some
obscure catastrophe, of which she was ever vaguely in dread, should have
developed. But she found him in a rather easier phase, with Lankester,
who had just returned from town, reading aloud to him. She gave them
tea, thinking, as she did so, of the noi