eye she kept her face pretty well.

Clare said: "I'd like to get up now," and Stonor left the shack.

Nothing further happened that night. Clare ate a good supper, and a bit
of colour returned to her cheeks. Stonor had no reason to be anxious
concerning her physical condition. She asked no more questions.
Immediately after eating he sent her and Mary to bed. Shortly
afterwards Mary reported that Clare had fallen asleep again.

Stonor slept in the store-room. He was up at dawn, and by sunrise he had
everything ready for the start up-river.

It was an entirely self-possessed Clare that issued from the shack after
breakfast, yet there was something inaccessible about her. Though she
was anxious to be friends with Stonor and Mary, she was cut off from
them. They had to begin all over again with her. There was something
piteous in the sight of the little figure so alone even among her
friends; but she was bearing it pluckily.

She looked around her eagerly. The river was very lovely, with the sun
drinking up the light mist from its surface.

"What river is this?" she asked.

Stonor told her.

"It is not altogether strange to me," she said. "I feel as if I might
have known it in a previous existence. There is a fall below, isn't
there?"

"Yes."

"How do you suppose I knew that?"

He shrugged, smiling.

"And the--the catastrophe happened down there," she said diffidently. He
nodded.

"I feel it like a numb place inside me. But I don't want to go down
there. I feel differently from yesterday. Some day soon, of course, I
must turn back the dreadful pages, but not quite yet. I want a little
sunshine and laziness and sleep first; a little vacation from trouble."

"That's just as it should be," said Stonor, much relieved.

"Isn't it funny, I can't remember anything that ever happened to me, yet
I haven't forgotten everything I knew. I know the meaning of things. I
still seem to talk like a grown-up person. Words come to me when I need
them. How do you explain that?"

"Well, I suppose it's because just one little department of your brain
has stopped working for a while."

"Well, I'm not going to worry. The world is beautiful."

* * * * *

The journey up-stream was a toilsome affair. Though the current between
the rapids was not especially swift, it made a great difference when
what had been added to their rate of paddling on the way down, was
deducted on the way back. Stonor fo