pensive reflection. "If it were not for the wearying of always trying to
remember, I don't believe I should want my memory back. And of course to
be like other people," she ended with a sigh.

It was on his tongue to say that he would not have her so; but he
checked himself, and said, lamely enough: "Perhaps you will be like
them, sometime."

She startled him by answering irrelevantly: "You know my mother is dead.
She died a long while ago; I suppose I must have been very little."

She spoke as if the fact scarcely concerned her, and Lanfear drew a
breath of relief in his surprise. He asked, at another tangent: "What
made you think I was sad yesterday?"

"Oh, I knew, somehow. I think that I always know when you are sad; I
can't tell you how, but I feel it."

"Then I must cheer up," Lanfear said. "If I could only see you strong
and well, Miss Gerald, like this girl--"

They both looked at the peasant, and she laughed in sympathy with their
smiling, and beat the donkey a little for pleasure; it did not mind.

"But you will be--you will be! We must hurry on, now, or your father
will be getting anxious."

They pushed forward on the road, which was now level and wider than it
had been. As they drew near the town, whose ruin began more and more to
reveal itself in the roofless walls and windowless casements, they saw a