of the jaw and chin, perhaps he notes a suggested likeness to this
or that animal of the lower class--a sign of some trait which he was not
conscious he possessed. And then--those strange eyes! They are his own;
nothing new; yet in their depths all sorts of mocking meanings seem to
rise. The world, with all its associations, even his own history also,
drops from him like a garment, and he is left alone, facing the problem
of his own existence. It is the old riddle of the Sphinx.

Something of this passed through Anne's mind at that moment. She was too
young to accept misery, to generalize on sorrow, to place herself among
the large percentage of women to whom, in the great balance of
population, a happy love is denied. She felt her own wretchedness
acutely, unceasingly, while the man she loved was so near. She knew that
she would leave him, that he would go back to Helen; that she would
return to her hospital work and to Weston, and that that would be the
end. There was not in her mind a thought of anything else. Yet this
certainty did not prevent the two large slow tears that rose and welled
over as she watched the eyes in the glass, watched them as though they
were the eyes of some one else.

Diana's head now appeared, giving the morning bulletin: the captain had
slept "like a cherrb," and was already "'mos' well." Anne went down by
the outside stairway, and ate her breakfast under the trees not far from
Mrs. Redd's out-door hearth. She told July that she should return to the
hospital during the coming night, or, if the mountain path could not be
traversed in the darkness, they must start at dawn.

"I don't think it's quite fair of you to quit so soon," objected Mrs.
Redd, loath to lose her profit.

"If you can find any one to escort me, I will leave you Diana and July,"
answered Anne. "For myself, I can not stay longer."

July went in with the sick man's breakfast, but came forth again
immediately. "He wants _yo'_ to come, miss."

"I can not come now. If he eats his breakfast obediently, I will come in
and see him later," said the nurse.

"Isn't much trouble 'bout _eating_," said July, grinning. "Cap'n he eats
like he 'mos' starved."

Anne remained sitting under the trees, while the two black servants
attended to her patient. At ten o'clock he was reported as "sittin' up
in bed, and powerful smart." This bulletin was soon followed by another,
"Him all tired out now, and gone to sleep."

Leaving directions f