ing again; "he can't
have been all this time over it."

"Well, perhaps he is working at something else," said Tom. "He's
not been sleeping well lately, I know. Last night he got through
thirty-three letters, and the night before he wrote a long pamphlet."

Erica did not look satisfied.

"Lend me your stove for a minute," she said; "I shall make him a cup of
tea."

They talked a little about the curious failure of memory noticed for the
first time that evening. Tom was more like himself than he had been for
several days; he came downstairs with her to carry a light, but she went
alone into the study. He had not gone up the first flight of stairs,
however, when he heard a cry, then his own name called twice in tones
that made him thrill all over with a nameless fear. He rushed down
and pushed open the study door. There stood Erica with blanched face;
Raeburn sat in his customary place at the writing table, but his head
had fallen forward and, though the face was partly hidden by the desk,
they could see that it was rigid and deathly pale.

"He has fainted," said Tom, not allowing the worse fear to overmaster
him. "Run quick, and get some water, Erica."

She obeyed mechanically. When she returned, Tom had managed to get
Raeburn on to the floor and had loosened his cravat; he had also noticed
that only one letter lay upon the desk, abruptly terminating at "I am,
yours sincerely." Whether the "Luke Raeburn" would ever be added, seemed
to Tom at that moment very doubtful. Leaving Erica with her father,
he rushed across the square to summon Brian, returning in a very few
minutes with the comforting news that he was at home and would be with
them immediately. Erica gave a sigh of relief when the quick, firm steps
were heard on the pavement outside. Brian was so closely associated with
all the wearing times of illness and anxiety which had come to them in
the last six years that, in her trouble, she almost forgot the day at
Fiesole regarding him not as her lover, but as the man who had once
before saved her father's life. His very presence inspired her with
confidence, the quiet authority of his manner, the calm, business-like
way in which he directed things. Her anxiety faded away in the
consciousness that he knew all about it, and would do everything as
it should be done. Before very long Raeburn showed signs of returning
consciousness, sighed uneasily; then, opening his eyes, regained his
faculties as suddenly as he ha