"No," he said shortly, "I am not ill; but I do not want to drive any
farther."

He said no more, and she, greatly wondering, did not like to press him
further. She hurried the pony as much as possible along the road they
had so lately come. "Had he remembered something?" she asked herself.
What had happened in those few minutes? Something must have occurred
to account for this sudden change. If he would only speak and tell her!

He was sitting with his head sunk on his chest, so that she could not
see his face, and he was absolutely silent until after they had turned
in at the lodge and were going up the drive. Then he turned to her.

"Is Isabella still here?" he asked.

"Isabella!" faltered Philippa, taken aback by the sudden question.

"Yes, Isabella. Does she still live here?"

"Yes; she lives here."

Then as they pulled up at the door he added, "Will you fetch her? Will
you bring her to me, please? I want to see her."

"Certainly she shall come, dear, if you want her."

Ford came to the door in answer to the bell, and Francis descended.
Philippa was about to follow him, when he stopped her. "Will you go
and fetch her? Will you go now?"

"Won't you let me stay with you? I will send for her."

"No," he interrupted. "Please go and bring her--as quickly as you can."

"If you really wish it," she stammered, "I will go." She did not know
Francis in this strange mood. "But may I not come and see you safely
up-stairs first?"

"I wish it. I shall be all right. Please go." He spoke kindly but
quite decidedly.

Philippa made one more effort.

"Let me at least stay until Keen comes to you." But he replied with a
gesture which showed her further argument was useless, and she obeyed
him without another word.

Ford had meanwhile gone in search of Keen and the carrying-chair, so
that when Francis entered he was quite alone. He did not pause, but
walked straight across the hall and up the stairs.

When Keen, who had been reading the local paper over a quiet pipe in
the kitchen yard, arrived in all haste in answer to the summons, he
failed at first to find his master, but then he saw him and hurried to
his side.

Francis was standing at the head of the staircase as though he had
stayed to rest a moment, and his eyes were fixed on a picture on the
wall. He paid no heed to his servant's murmur of regret that he should
not have been at hand when needed--he did not seem to hear. Then his
lips