as he
was hundred thousand years ago," she added enigmatically. "All think one
woman beautiful when no other woman there."

"Indeed," I replied, wondering to what proceedings on the part of
Bastin and Bickley she alluded. Could that self-centred pair--oh! it was
impossible.

"How long have I been ill?" I asked to escape the subject which I felt
to be uncomfortable.

She lifted her beautiful eyes in search of words and began to count upon
her fingers.

"Two moon, one half moon, yes, ten week, counting Sabbath," she answered
triumphantly.

"Ten weeks!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, Humphrey, ten whole weeks and three days you first bad, then mad.
Oh!" she went on, breaking into the Orofenan tongue which she spoke so
perfectly, although it was not her own. That language of hers I never
learned, but I know she thought in it and only translated into Orofenan,
because of the great difficulty which she had in rendering her high and
refined ideas into its simpler metaphor, and the strange words which
often she introduced. "Oh! you have been very ill, friend of my heart.
At times I thought that you were going to die, and wept and wept.
Bickley thinks that he saved you and he is very clever. But he could not
have saved you; that wanted more knowledge than any of your people have;
only I pray you, do not tell him so because it would hurt his pride."

"What was the matter with me then, Yva?"

"All was the matter. First, the weapon which that youth threw--he was
the son of the sorcerer whom my father destroyed--crushed in the bone
of your head. He is dead for his crime and may he be accursed for ever,"
she added in the only outbreak of rage and vindictiveness in which I
ever saw her indulge.

"One must make excuses for him; his father had been killed," I said.

"Yes, that is what Bastin tells me, and it is true. Still, for that
young man I can make no excuse; it was cowardly and wicked. Well,
Bickley performed what he calls operation, and the Lord Oro, he came up
from his house and helped him, because Bastin is no good in such things.
Then he can only turn away his head and pray. I, too, helped, holding
hot water and linen and jar of the stuff that made you feel like
nothing, although the sight made me feel more sick than anything since I
saw one I loved killed, oh, long, long ago."

"Was the operation successful?" I asked, for I did not dare to begin to
thank her.

"Yes, that clever man, Bickley, lifted the bone which had be