She shook her head.

"As a matter of fact I am much alone in the world. My husband was
everything--everything. And I was everything to him also. You know
my story--I told you all there was to tell this morning. There
remain to me only my father's two brothers--Uncle Bendigo in
England, and Uncle Albert in Italy. I wrote them both to-day."

Mark rose.

"You shall hear from me to-morrow," he said, "and if I do not go to
Paignton, I will see you again to-night."

"Thank you--you are very kind."

"Let me ask you to consider yourself and your own health under this
great strain. People can endure anything, but often they find
afterwards that they have put too heavy a call on nature, when it
comes to pay the bill. Would you care to see a medical man?"

"No, Mr. Brendon--that is not necessary. If my husband should be--as
we think, then my own life has no further interest for me. I may end
it."

"For God's sake don't allow yourself to speak in that way," said
Brendon. "Look forward. If we can no longer be happy in the world,
that is not to deny us the power and privilege of being useful in
it. Think what your husband would have wished you to do and how he
would have expected you to face any great tragedy, or grief."