in what they had to say to each other that they brushed by
Peter without seeing him. He might have been one of the rustic posts of
the rest-house or the pine-tree growing close by. As they passed, Peter
scanned narrowly the half-averted face of the girl he loved and found it
pitifully changed in those few days. The luminous light had gone from her
eyes; her lips no longer curved to the gracious, demure smile Peter had
always called "cloistered." They were set to grim determination, as if the
girl had gripped fast to a purpose and no amount of shaking or persuasion
would induce her to let go. Her eyes were circled and anxious. Peter
groaned unconsciously at his glimpse of her, while Hennessy from his
vantage-point on the stump shook a vengeful fist at the retreating back of
the surgeon.

"A million curses on him!" muttered Hennessy, his lips tight shirred.
"Sure, the lass has the look of a soul possessed." The next instant his
fist was descending not over-mercifully on Peter's back. "First I'm
cursin' him an' then I'm cursin' ye. For the love o' Saint Patrick, are ye
goin' to stand round like a blitherin' fool an' see that rascal of a
docthor do harm again to our lass? I'll come mortial close to wringin'
your neck if ye do."

Peter glared at his erstwhile friend and fellow-philosopher. "You're the
fool, Hennessy. What under heaven can I do? What could any man do in my
place?"

"Fight for her. Can't you see the man has her possessed? What an' how
Hennessy hasn't the wits to make out, but ye have. Search out her throuble
same as she searched out yours, an' make her whole an' sweet an' shinin'
again." Hennessy laid two gnarled, brown hands on Peter's shoulder while
he peered up at him with eyes full of appeal. "Ye've heard naught to shake
your faith in the lass? Ye believe in her--aye?"

"Good God! man, of course I believe in her! I'd believe in her if all the
tongues in the world wagged till doomsday. But what else can I do? Hang
around this old hotbed of gossip and listen and listen, powerless to cram
the truth down their throats because I don't know it?" Peter shot out a
sudden hand and gripped Hennessy's. "For the love of your blessed Saint
Patrick, stand up like a man there, Hennessy, and tell me what was the
truth?"

For a moment Hennessy's eyes shifted; he whistled his breath in and out in
staccato jerks; then his gaze came back to Peter and he eyed him steadily.
"Son, I'm knowin' no more than when I first saw y