e ought to have a long
talk."

"Yes, indeed," said Dr. Archie gratefully; "I think we ought."

V

THEA was to sail on Tuesday, at noon, and on Saturday Fred Ottenburg
arranged for her passage, while she and Dr. Archie went shopping. With
rugs and sea-clothes she was already provided; Fred had got everything
of that sort she needed for the voyage up from Vera Cruz. On Sunday
afternoon Thea went to see the Harsanyis. When she returned to her
hotel, she found a note from Ottenburg, saying that he had called and
would come again to-morrow.

On Monday morning, while she was at breakfast, Fred came in. She knew by
his hurried, distracted air as he entered the dining-room that something
had gone wrong. He had just got a telegram from home. His mother had
been thrown from her carriage and hurt; a concussion of some sort, and
she was unconscious. He was leaving for St. Louis that night on the
eleven o'clock train. He had a great deal to attend to during the day.
He would come that evening, if he might, and stay with her until train
time, while she was doing her packing. Scarcely waiting for her consent,
he hurried away.

All day Thea was somewhat cast down. She was sorry for Fred, and she
missed the feeling that she was the one person in his mind. He had
scarcely looked at her when they exchanged words at the breakfast-table.
She felt as if she were set aside, and she did not seem so important
even to herself as she had yesterday. Certainly, she reflected, it was
high time that she began to take care of herself again. Dr. Archie came
for dinner, but she sent him away early, telling him that she would be
ready to go to the boat with him at half-past ten the next morning. When
she went upstairs, she looked gloomily at the open trunk in her
sitting-room, and at the trays piled on the sofa. She stood at the
window and watched a quiet snowstorm spending itself over the city. More
than anything else, falling snow always made her think of Moonstone; of
the Kohlers' garden, of Thor's sled, of dressing by lamplight and
starting off to school before the paths were broken.

When Fred came, he looked tired, and he took her hand almost without
seeing her.

"I'm so sorry, Fred. Have you had any more word?"

"She was still unconscious at four this afternoon. It doesn't look very
encouraging." He approached the fire and warmed his hands. He seemed to
have contracted, and he had not at all his habitual ease of manner.
"Poor moth