ening, every nerve upon the stretch.
Then at last there came to her the sound of voices raised in farewell,
the crunch of wheels below her window, the loud banging of a door. And
with a gasp she turned her face into her pillow, and wept for sheer
relief.

He had come and gone like an evil dream, and she was left safe in her
father's house.

CHAPTER III

Three weeks after her wedding, Nan Cradock awoke to the amazing discovery
that she was a rich woman; how rich it took her some time to realise, and
when it did dawn upon her she was startled, almost dismayed.

Her recovery from the only illness she had ever known was marvellously
rapid, and with her return to health her spirits rose to their accustomed
giddy height. There was little in her surroundings to remind her of the
fact that she was married, always excepting the unwonted presence of
these same riches which she speedily began to scatter with a lavish hand.
Her life slipped very easily back into its accustomed groove, save that
the pinch of poverty was conspicuously absent. The first day of every
month brought her a full purse, and for a long time the charm of this
novelty went far towards quieting the undeniable sense of uneasiness that
accompanied it.

It was only when the novelty began to wear away that the burdened feeling
began to oppress her unduly. No one suspected it, not even Mona, who
adhered rigorously to her promise, and wrote her weekly report of her
sister's health to her absent brother-in-law long after Nan was fully
capable of performing this duty for herself. Mona had always been
considered the least feather-brained of the family, and she certainly
fulfilled her trust with absolute integrity.

Piet Cradock's epistles were not quite so frequent, and invariably of the
briefest. They were exceedingly formal at all times, and Nan's heart
never warmed at the sight of his handwriting. It was thick and strong,
like himself, and she always regarded it with a little secret sense of
aversion.

Nevertheless, as time passed, and he made no mention of return, her dread
of the future subsided gradually into the back of her mind. It had never
been her habit to look forward very far, and she was still little more
than a child. Gradually the fact of her marriage began to grow shadowy
and unreal, till at length she almost managed to shut it out of her
consideration altogether. She had accepted the man upon impulse, dazzled
by the glitter of his weal