teur, and I
want to convince him that I am nothing of the sort."

Trowse moved a little forward, and Eleanor turned her head to meet his
earnest gaze. Almost immediately there was a change in her expression.
The color faded from her cheeks, she shrank a little away, a curious,
troubled light filled her eyes. Trowse, if he noticed her agitation,
ignored it. He bent over the bedside, and touched her fingers, asked a
few apparently careless questions, and let his hand rest for a moment
upon her head. Then he turned away and addressed the nurse.

"Sir Powers has justified himself," he said, with a faint smile. "Your
patient is going to have the good sense to get well very quickly."

Eleanor drew a little breath, as though immensely relieved. She turned
her head a little, so as to leave him altogether out of her range of
vision. Powers, who, to some extent, misunderstood her action, exchanged
quick glances with Trowse. The desire for life was there once more,
then.

"I am glad to hear it, sir," the nurse answered quietly. "She seems to
be going on very nicely."

Without turning her head toward him, Eleanor addressed Trowse.

"Will you please tell me something?"

"If I can."

"When shall I remember things?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. She kept her eyes averted, but she seemed
to be shivering a little.

"Perhaps to-morrow," he answered. "Perhaps not for a year. It is one of
those things which science is powerless to determine."

"But I shall--remember--some day?"

"Some day--certainly. Let me ask you a question."

"Well?"

"Are you very anxious to remember?"

"It is so puzzling," she answered. "Sometimes I want to very much,
sometimes I am content."

There was a moment's silence. As though against her will, she turned her
head and looked up at him standing over her bedside. Again there was the
faint shrinking away, again her troubled eyes seemed held by his against
her will.

"I will give you some advice, young lady," he said. "Let things go. You
have made a marvelous recovery. The completion of it is in your own
hands. Accept the present. If the past eludes you--let it. You will
remember this?"

Eleanor remained speechless, though her lips seemed to move. Every word,
though easily spoken, seemed to come to her charged with a precise and
serious meaning. His tone was unemotional, his manner was not even
earnest. Yet she never forgot. The two men left the room. By common
consent, they turned into th