ila said. "I've just heard about her, and I'd like to be of use."

The resident doctor looked at her with admiration. She was the most
conspicuous figure in the island, and her beauty was a fine support to
her wealth and reputation. It was like her to be kind in this frank way.

"You can be of great use if you will," he said. "The fever is not
infectious, I'm glad to say. So you need have no fear of being with
her--on account of others."

"I have no fear," responded Sheila with a friendly smile, "and I will go
to her now--no, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to go alone," she added as
she saw the doctor was coming with her.

The other bowed and nodded approvingly. "The fewer the better," he said.
"I think you ought to go in alone--quite alone," he said with gentle
firmness, for he saw the girl with Sheila was also going with her.

So it was that Sheila entered alone, and came to the bed and looked at
the woman in the extreme depression of fever. "Prepare some lime-juice,
please," she said to the servant on the other side of the bed. "Keep it
always beside the bed--I know what these cases are."

The servant disappeared, and the eyes of the sick woman opened and
looked at Sheila. There shot into them a look of horror and relief in
one, if such a thing might be. A sudden energy inspired her, and she
drew herself up in bed, her face gone ghastly.

"You are Sheila Boyne, aren't you?" she asked in a low half-guttural
note.

"I am Sheila Llyn," was the astonished reply. "It's the same thing,"
came the response. "You are the daughter of Erris Boyne."

Sheila turned pale. Who was this woman that knew her and her history?

"What is your name?" she asked--"your real name--what is it?"

"My name is Noreen Balfe; it was Noreen Boyne." For a moment Sheila
could not get her bearings. The heavy scent of the flowers coming in at
the window almost suffocated her. She seemed to lose a grip of herself.
Presently she made an effort at composure. "Noreen Boyne! You were then
the second wife of Erris Boyne?"

"I was his second wife. His first wife was your mother--you are like
your mother!" Noreen said in agitation.

The meaning was clear. Sheila laid a sharp hand on herself. "Don't get
excited," she urged with kindly feeling. "He is dead and gone."

"Yes, he is dead and gone."

For a moment Noreen seemed to fight for mastery of her emotion, and
Sheila said: "Lie still. It is all over. He cannot hurt us now."

The other shook h