"It seems I had not slept for so long," she said, "and now I feel
better. It is good of you to let me come with you. We are in the park,
are we not?"

"Yes, we shall be at the door in a minute."

And then she cried suddenly,

"Oh! look at the deer!" For a bold and valiant buck, startled and
indignant at the motor lights, was seen, for an instant, glaring at them
as they flashed past.

"You must go to bed as soon as you have had some tea," Tristram said,
"after this long drive. It is half-past six. I telegraphed to have a
room prepared for you. Not that big state apartment you had before, but
one in the other part of the house, where we live when we are alone; and
I thought you would like your maid next you, as you have been ill."

"Thank you," she whispered quite low.

How kind and thoughtful he was being to her! She was glad she had been
ill!

Then they arrived at the door, and this time they turned to the left
before they got to the Adam's hall, and went down a corridor to the old
paneled rooms, and into his own sitting-room where it was all warm and
cozy, and the tea-things were laid out. She already looked better for
her sleep; some of the bluish transparency seemed to have left her face.

She had not been into this room on her inspection of the house. She
liked it best of all, with its scent of burning logs and good cigars.
And Jake snorted by the fire with pleasure to see his master, and she
bent and patted his head.

But everything she did was filling Tristram with fresh bitterness and
pain. To be so sweet and gentle now when it was all too late!

He began opening his letters until the tea came. There were the
telegrams from Francis Markrute, sent a week before to say Zara was ill,
and many epistles from friends. And at the end of the pile he found a
short note from Francis Markrute, as well. It was written the day
before, and said that he supposed he, Tristram, would get it eventually;
that Zara had had a very sad bereavement which he felt sure she would
rather tell him about herself, and that he trusted, seeing how very sad
and ill she had been, that Tristram would be particularly kind to her.
So her uncle knew, then! This was incredible: but perhaps Zara had told
him, in her first grief.

He glanced up at her; she was lying back in a great leather chair now,
looking so fragile and weary, he could not say what he intended. Then
Jake rose leisurely and put his two fat forepaws up on her knees and