n't think much of you or your lungs when you were a baby."

"Is he coming to himself?" Carmina asked.

"Do you know what a pump is?" Benjulia rejoined. "Very well; a pump
sometimes gets out of order. Give the carpenter time, and he'll put it
right again." He let his mighty hand drop on Ovid's breast. _"This_ pump
is out of order; and I'm the carpenter. Give me time, and I'll set it
right again. You're not a bit like your mother."

Watching eagerly for the slightest signs of recovery in Ovid's face,
Carmina detected a faint return of colour. She was so relieved that she
was able to listen to the doctor's oddly discursive talk, and even to
join in it. "Some of our friends used to think I was like my father,"
she answered.

"Did they?" said Benjulia--and shut his thin-lipped mouth as if he was
determined to drop the subject for ever.

Ovid stirred feebly, and half opened his eyes.

Benjulia got up. "You don't want me any longer," he said. "Now, Mr.
Keeper, give me back the monkey." He dismissed the man, and tucked
the monkey under one arm as if it had been a bundle. "There are your
friends," he resumed, pointing to the end of the walk. "Good-day!"

Carmina stopped him. Too anxious to stand on ceremony, she laid her hand
on his arm. He shook it off--not angrily: just brushing it away, as he
might have brushed away the ash of his cigar or a splash of mud in the
street.

"What does this fainting fit mean?" she asked timidly. "Is Ovid going to
be ill?"

"Seriously ill--unless you do the right thing with him, and do it at
once." He walked away. She followed him, humbly and yet resolutely.
"Tell me, if you please," she said, "what we are to do."

He looked back over his shoulder. "Send him away."

She returned, and knelt down by Ovid--still slowly reviving. With a fond
and gentle hand, she wiped the moisture from his forehead.

"Just as we were beginning to understand each other!" she said to
herself, with a sad little sigh.

CHAPTER XV.

Two days passed. In spite of the warnings that he had received, Ovid
remained in London.

The indisputable authority of Benjulia had no more effect on him than
the unanswerable arguments of Mrs. Gallilee. "Recent circumstances" (as
his mother expressed it) "had strengthened his infatuated resistance to
reason." The dreaded necessity for Teresa's departure had been hastened
by a telegram from Italy: Ovid felt for Carmina's distress with
sympathies which made her dearer t