lacked the power to do so. There was something she
must do--what was it?

A servant came and handed her a letter as she stood there, and she took
it mechanically without glancing at it. Her fingers tore it open
automatically, and then she looked--and something burst the icy band
which froze her faculties and a low cry broke from her: "Oh no! not
now--not now."

It was a thin square envelope bearing an Italian stamp--a reply from
her friend to say that the villa should be prepared for her.

It had come--now--when her dream was shattered, and the man she
loved--for whom she had planned the journey to the Magical Island--knew
her only as Jim's girl.

But as sense and feeling returned to her in a burning flood of pain
they brought also a courage as of despair--a courage and a
determination to cling with all her strength to what had been
hers--when--such a little time ago.

Was her love of no avail? It was at least a shelter and a refuge for
him in his loneliness and grief. All jealousy of Phil had vanished
now--there could be no barrier between them now he knew the truth. He
was hers to shield and comfort--surely he would need her now more than
ever before.

Then she remembered what she had wished to do, and crossing to the
writing-table she penned a short note to the doctor. "He has
remembered; I think you had better come." She signed it and fastened
the envelope; her brain was working clearly now. She rang the bell and
ordered the note to be taken at once, and asked for some soup and wine.

Francis would need nourishment, and although he had not appeared ill,
it would be better for the doctor to be at hand in case the agitation
of the afternoon prevented him from sleeping, and some soothing draught
might be advisable. It was wisest to send for him. And she did not
know--indeed how could she?--that the doctor was at the moment watching
by a dying bed many miles away, and that her summons was destined not
to reach him before the next morning.

When the tray was brought she took it up-stairs herself. Francis was
lying on the sofa and did not look up as she entered.

"I have brought you some soup," she said; "I think you must need it."

He raised himself and thanked her courteously, and took the cup from
her hands. Philippa felt encouraged, for she had been half afraid lest
he should repulse her. She stood quietly beside him while he drank,
and then moved to set the tray on a table.

Having done so