d her, and so
despised him in consequence? What aspect of it might they not have put
into her head--these people she was with--this step-mother of whom he
had never heard? In all cases Fate had parted them, and he must cut the
pain of it from his life or it would destroy him. It never occurred to
him to reflect upon the possible agony she might be suffering, his poor
little wood-nymph, all alone. The fact of his own unhappiness filled his
mind to the exclusion of any other thought for the time. In his dire
physical weakness Cecilia Cricklander's gracious beauty seemed to
augment, and Halcyone's sylph-like charm to grow of less potent force.
For Love had not done all that he would yet do with John Derringham's
soul.

That underneath, if he could have chosen between the two women, he would
have hesitated for a second was not the case; only physical weakness,
and circumstance and propinquity were working for the one and against
the other--and so it would appear was Fate.

Thus, the day the visitors left, Mr. Hanbury-Green among them, the
invalid was experiencing a sense of exasperating neglect. He felt
extremely miserable. Life, and all he held good in it, seemed to be over
for him, and his financial position was absolutely desperate--quite
beyond any question of marriage it threatened to swamp his actual
career. He felt impotent and beaten, lying there like a log unable to
move.

Mrs. Cricklander sent him another little note in the afternoon. Arabella
had reported that the patient was restless, and this might mean one of
two things--either that he was becoming impatient to see her, or that he
was growing restive and bored with bed. In either case it was the moment
to strike--and to strike quickly.

"The doctors have said you may have a taste of champagne to-night," she
wrote, which was quite untrue, but a small fib like this could not count
when such large issues were at stake. "And so I propose, if you will let
me and will have me for your guest, to come and dine with you to
celebrate the event. Say if I may. Cecilia."

And he had eagerly scribbled in pencil, "Yes."

So she came, and was all in white with just a red rose in her dress, and
she was solicitous about his comfort--had he enough pillows?--and she
spoke so graciously to the nurse who arranged things before she went to
her supper.

She, Cecilia, would be his nurse, she whispered--just for to-night! and
then her own personal footman brought in an exquisi