"I shall pray that your eyes may be opened, Isabel," he answered, "so
that you may know you have never really lost him."

She smiled again, her fleeting, phantom smile. "Don't pray for the
impossible, Stumpy!" she said. "I--I think that would be a mistake."

"Is anything impossible?" said Scott.

He raised his hand before she could make any answer, and sent a cheery
holloa down to his brother who waved a swift response. They quickened
their steps to meet him.

Eustace was striding up the hill with the easy swing of a giant. He held
out both hands to Isabel as he drew near. She pulled herself free from
Scott, and went to him as one drawn by an unseen force.

"Ah, that's right," he said, and bent to kiss her. "I'm glad you've been
for a walk. But you might have come and spoken to me first. I was only on
the rink."

"I didn't want to see a lot of people," said Isabel, shrinking a little.
"I--I don't like so many strangers, Eustace."

"Oh, nonsense!" he said lightly. "You have been buried too long. It's
time you came out of your shell. I shan't take you home again till you
have quite got over that."

His tone was kindly but it held authority. Isabel attempted no protest.
Only she looked away over the sparkling world of white and blue with
something near akin to despair in her eyes.