ly averted a tragedy.
_Continue in it, I counsel you._ The knowledge that his fears are
well founded, that the boy--for whose fate he morbidly considers
himself entirely responsible--has in very truth been lost at sea,
and lies buried in the ground beneath his feet, might, in his
present condition of invalidism, be attended by most evil results.
Some day it is quite possible that he may be able to learn all the
facts with equanimity. But this can only be later when long rest and
change have accomplished their beneficent work. It cannot certainly
be now. Endeavour, therefore, to dissuade him from any sort of
creative labour. Endeavour to persuade him to leave the island.
Above all things, do not let him know the truth. It is a sad thing
that a strong man of genius should be brought so low that he has to
be treated with precautions almost suitable to a child. But to a
doctor there are many more children in the world than a statistician
might be able to number. I wish I could take a holiday and come to
your assistance. Unfortunately, my duties tie me closely to town at
the present. And, in any case, my presence might merely irritate
and alarm our friend.

"Believe me,
Faithfully yours,
JOHN BRAYBROOKE."

Uniacke read this letter, and laid it down with a strange mingled
feeling of relief and apprehension. The relief was a salve that touched
his wounded conscience gently. If he had sinned, at least this
physician's letter told him that by his sin he had accomplished
something beneficent. And for the moment self-condemnation ceased to
scourge him. The apprehension that quickly beset him rose from the
knowledge that Sir Graham was in danger so long as he was in the Island.
But how could he be persuaded to leave it? That was the problem.

Uniacke's reverie over the letter was interrupted by the appearance of
the painter. As he came into the room, the clergyman rather awkwardly
thrust the doctor's letter into his pocket and turned to his guest.

"In already, Sir Graham?" he said, with a strained attempt at ease of
manner. "Ah! work tires you. Indeed you should take a long holiday."

He spoke, thinking of the doctor's words.

"I have not started work," the painter said. "I've--I've been looking at
that