--only gave me the
cheque, and said we weren't to pay it back."

"H'm, that wasn't half bad of him, poor old thing." That admission meant
a great deal from Ted.

"There's a letter there for you,--from Knowles, I think."

"What's he writing about?" She tore open the envelope. To her intense
surprise she found a cheque for fifty guineas in it, and this note:--

"DEAR MISS HAVILAND,--Forgive my saying so, but when you want to
sell your pictures, why don't you consult your friends instead of
going to a thieving dealer? I found the Witch in the hands of such
an one, and rescued her, for I won't say how little. As I could not
possibly keep my ill-gotten gains on any other terms, please accept
the enclosed, which with what you probably received will make up
something like her real value. I need not tell you how delighted I
am to possess so exquisite a specimen of your best work."

"Ted, what am I to do? Send it back again?"

"No, you little fool! Keep it, and never do _that_ again--for any one."

For any one? What was there that she would not do for Vincent? But Ted,
having said that, looked more depressed than ever. He went to the
fireplace, and leaned against the chimneypiece, shading his face with
his hand.

"What is it, Ted?"

He made no answer. A terrible fear clutched at her heart, and he saw it
in her eyes.

"He's all right now; he's sleeping. But----"

"But _what_? Tell me, Ted."

"Well, Crashawe was here this morning, and he says he isn't really
better."

"But he _is_ better. He said so himself when he examined him yesterday."

"Yes, so he is, in a way. That is, you see, his lungs are all right.
It's his heart that's bad now. Crashawe says it must always have been
more or less weak. And now----" He stopped short.

"Ted----" she implored.

"It may stop beating any minute."

She said nothing; she only took off her hat and cloak and put on her
artist's overall,--it was her nurse's apron now. She must go to Vincent.
But a thought struck her before she reached the door.

"Does he know?"

"No; but I think he has some idea. He told Crashawe this morning not to
interfere with the course of nature." Ted smiled a dreary smile at the
recollection.

Katherine dismissed Mrs. Rogers and took up her post at Vincent's
bedside. He was still sleeping, with his face turned towards hers as she
sat. And as she looked at him she had hope. She was still young, and it
was inconceivab