braced herself to restrain a
wail of sorrow if she saw his disillusionment. He talked in order to
give time for her to master her agitation.

'I was afraid there would be interviewers and boring people generally to
meet me if I came by the boat by which I was expected, so I got into
another, and I've arrived a day before my time.'

She was calmer now, and though she did not speak, she looked at him with
strained attention, hanging on his words.

He was very bronzed, thin after his recent illness, but he looked well
and strong. His manner had the noble self-confidence which had delighted
her of old, and he spoke with the quiet deliberation she loved. Now and
then a faint inflection betrayed his Scottish birth.

'I felt that I owed my first visit to you. Can you ever forgive me that
I have not brought George home to you?'

Lucy gave a sudden gasp. And with bitter self-reproach she realised that
in the cruel joy of seeing Alec once more she had forgotten her brother.
She was ashamed. It was but eighteen months since he had died, but
twelve since the cruel news had reached her, and now, at this moment of
all others, she was so absorbed in her love that no other feeling could
enter her heart.

She looked down at her dress. Its half-mourning still betokened that she
had lost one who was very dear to her, but the black and white was a
mockery. She remembered in a flash the stunning grief which Alec's
letter had brought her. It seemed at first that there must be a mistake
and that her tears were but part of a hateful dream. It was too
monstrously unjust that the fates should have hit upon George. She had
already suffered too much. And George was so young. It was very hard
that a mere boy should be robbed of the precious jewel which is life.
And when she realised that it was really true, her grief knew no bounds.
All that she had hoped was come to nought, and now she could only
despair. She bitterly regretted that she had ever allowed the boy to go
on that fatal expedition, and she blamed herself because it was she who
had arranged it. He must have died accusing her of his death. Her father
was dead, and George was dead, and she was alone. Now she had only Alec;
and then, like some poor stricken beast, her heart went out to him,
crying for love, crying for protection. All her strength, the strength
on which she had prided herself, was gone; and she felt utterly weak and
utterly helpless. And her heart yearned for Alec, an