anced at the clock, and buttoned his coat. He had one minute
to spare.

"My friend," he said, "a second time I have come as the bearer of evil
tidings."

"Not evil," replied Myra, in a tone of hopeless sadness. "This is not a
world to which we could possibly desire the return of one we love."

"There is nothing wrong with the world," said the doctor. "Our individual
heaven or hell is brought about by our own actions."

"Or by the actions of others," amended Lady Ingleby, bitterly.

"Or by the actions of others," agreed the doctor. "But, even then, we
cannot be completely happy, unless we are true to our best selves; nor
wholly miserable, unless to our own ideals we become false. I fear I must
be off; but I do not like leaving you thus alone."

Lady Ingleby glanced at the clock, rose, and gave him her hand.

"You have been more than kind, Sir Deryck, in coming to me yourself. I
shall never forget it. And I am expecting Jane Champion--Dalmain, I mean;
why do one's friends get married?--any minute. She is coming direct from
town; the phaeton has gone to the station to meet her."

"Good," said the doctor, and clasped her hand with the strong silent
sympathy of a man who, desiring to help, yet realises himself in the
presence of a grief he is powerless either to understand or to assuage.

"Good--very good," he said, as he stepped into the motor, remarking to
the chauffeur: "We have nine minutes; and if we miss the train, I must
ask you to run me up to town."

And he said it a third time, even more emphatically, when he had
recovered from his surprise at that which he saw as the motor flew down
the avenue. For, after passing Lady Ingleby's phaeton returning from the
station empty excepting for a travelling coat and alligator bag left upon
the seat, he saw the Honourable Mrs. Dalmain walking slowly beneath the
trees, in earnest conversation with a very tall man, who carried his hat,
letting the breeze blow through his thick rumpled hair. Both were too
preoccupied to notice the motor, but as the man turned his haggard face
toward his companion, the doctor saw in it the same stony look of
hopeless despair, which had grieved and baffled him in Lady Ingleby's.
The two were slowly wending their way toward the house, by a path leading
down to the terrace.

"Evidently--the man," thought the doctor. "Well, I am glad Jane has him
in tow. Poor souls! Providence has placed them in wise hands. If faithful
counsel and honest pl