on that account that I applied to your sister when the
doctor's letter told me I was needed."

"I have been expecting Lady Throckmorton for so long, that I am afraid
something has gone wrong," said Theo.

To this remark, Priscilla made no reply. She was never prone to be
communicative regarding Lady Throckmorton. But she had come here to say
something to Theodora North, and at last she said it.

"You have been here--how long?" she asked, suddenly.

"Nearly a week," said Theo.

"Is Mr. Oglethorpe better, or worse, than when you saw him first?"

"I do not know exactly," answered the low, humble voice. "Sometimes
better--though I do not think he is ever much worse."

Another pause, and then:

"You were very brave to come so far alone."

The beautiful, dark, inconsistently, un-English face was uplifted all at
once, but the next moment it dropped with a sob of actual anguish.

"Oh, Miss Gower!" the girl cried. "Don't blame me; please don't blame
me. There was no one else, and the telegram said he was dying."

"Hush," said Priscilla Gower, with an inexplicable softness in her tone.
"I don't blame you; I should have done the same thing in your place."

"But you--" began Theo, faintly.

Priscilla stopped her before she had time to finish her sentence;
stopped her with a cold, clear, steady voice.

"No," she said. "You are making a mistake."

What this brief speech meant, she did not explain; but she evidently had
understood what Theodora was going to say, and had not wished to hear
it.

But brief speech as it was, its brevity held a swift pang of new fear
for Theo. She could not quite comprehend its exact meaning, but it
struck a fresh dread to her heart. Could it be that she knew the truth,
and was going to punish him? Could she be cruel enough to think of
reproaching him at such an hour as this, when he lay at death's door?
Some frantic idea of falling at her stern feet and pleading for him
rushed into her mind. But the next moment, glancing up at the erect,
motionless figure, she became dimly conscious of something that quieted
her, she scarcely knew how.

The dim room was so quiet, too; there was so deep a stillness upon the
whole place, it seemed that she gained a touch of courage for the
instant. Priscilla was not looking at her now; her statuesque face was
turned toward the wide expanse of landscape, fast dying out, as it were,
in the twilight grayness. Theo's eyes rested on her for a few minutes in