came into her face, but she did not touch him.

Her fingers, from which she had drawn her gloves, were laden with
rings--rings which he had not given her. His breath came a little
faster as he stooped over her neck.

"Don't be scared to tell me the truth," she said; "I guess I'm pretty
bad. You need not take the trouble to lie about it."

He examined her thoroughly and replaced the stethoscope before he
spoke.

"Your lungs are not right. They used to be."

"Oh," she replied bitterly, "I used to be. I have come too late--is
that what you mean?"

"I mean that you must exercise great care and avoid excitement. Don't
brood--don't worry yourself by misgivings, which will only do you
harm. Go away from England when the summer is over; go where the sun
shines and the air is mild. Lead a life of ease and indolence. I can
say no more."

"And then?"

"And then I see no reason why you should not live for years to come."

Bella flung her hands out with a sort of despair.

"Your prescription is impossible," she said dully.

"Impossible?"

"I have only just come over from the States. I have an engagement at
the Empire for six months. I have got to stay."

"You will be very unwise. The laws of health demand that you should
cancel any such contract."

"Beggars can't be choosers. I must sing to live. It is my trade now."

He sighed. "You do not look as if you were in pecuniary
difficulties."

"Well, I make money easily enough, but it melts like ice cream;
everything is so beastly dear."

"Are you not with--him?"

"Him? Oh no; he left me years ago. I am alone--very much alone. It
seems sometimes as if I had spent the best part of my life alone. I
am so dull I--I wonder why I dread to die. There! I can follow your
advice so far as this; I'll take the greatest care of myself--in
London. I am glad I came to you, though it does not seem to have
delighted you much. I suppose if--if I had run straight and stayed
with you, I might have been quite well, eh?"

"That is difficult to say. Bella, have you--it is a foolish question,
but--have you ever regretted?"

She laughed recklessly.

"Oh, as to that--what is the good of looking back, anyhow? I have and
I haven't--when I have been sick it has been awful lonesome. You
didn't grieve much, that's certain. And you got your title soon after
I went. It was lucky for you. Scot! I should have been Lady Chetwynd
if I had stopped with you, wouldn't I?"

"You would have been a