She could throw off the
mask for a little while; she had an opportunity to be tired; she had
solitude wherein to gain strength to resume her high spirits upon
Durrance's return. There came hours when despair seized hold of her.
"Shall I be able to keep up the pretence when we are married, when we
are always together?" she asked herself. But she thrust the question
back unanswered; she dared not look forward, lest even now her strength
should fail her.

After the third visit Durrance said to her:--

"Do you remember that I once mentioned a famous oculist at Wiesbaden? It
seems advisable that I should go to him."

"You are recommended to go?"

"Yes, and to go alone."

Ethne looked up at him with a shrewd, quick glance.

"You think that I should be dull at Wiesbaden," she said. "There is no
fear of that. I can rout out some relative to go with me."

"No; it is on my own account," answered Durrance. "I shall perhaps have
to go into a home. It is better to be quite quiet and to see no one for
a time."

"You are sure?" Ethne asked. "It would hurt me if I thought you proposed
this plan because you felt I would be happier at Glenalla."

"No, that is not the reason," Durrance answered, and he answered quite
truthfully. He felt it necessary for both of them that they should
separate. He, no less than Ethne, suffered under the tyranny of
perpetual simulation. It was only because he knew how much store she set
upon carrying out her resolve that two lives should not be spoilt
because of her, that he was able to hinder himself from crying out that
he knew the truth.

"I am returning to London next week," he added, "and when I come back I
shall be in a position to tell you whether I am to go to Wiesbaden or
not."

Durrance had reason to be glad that he had mentioned his plan before the
arrival of Calder's telegram from Wadi Halfa. Ethne was unable to
connect his departure from her with the receipt of any news about
Feversham. The telegram came one afternoon, and Durrance took it across
to The Pool in the evening and showed it to Ethne. There were only four
words to the telegram:--

"Feversham imprisoned at Omdurman."

Durrance, with one of the new instincts of delicacy which had been born
in him lately by reason of his sufferings and the habit of thought, had
moved away from Ethne's side as soon as he had given it to her, and had
joined Mrs. Adair, who was reading a book in the drawing-room. He had
folded up the tele