in tune with it you would find life a new and far more dominant joy
than it is to you now. I firmly believe that your very illness has
arisen from your determined attitude of unbelief."

"That's what a Christian Scientist would say," he answered, with a
touch of scorn,--"I begin to think Dr. Brayle is right in his
estimate of you."

I held my peace.

"Have you no curiosity?" he demanded--"Don't you want to know his
opinion?"

"No,"--and I smiled--"My dear Mr. Harland, with all your experience
of the world, has it never occurred to you that there are some
people whose opinions don't matter?"

"Brayle is a clever man,"--he said, somewhat testily, "And you are
merely an imaginative woman."

"Then why do you trouble about me?" I asked him, quickly--"Why do
you want to find out that something in me which baffles both Dr.
Brayle and yourself?"

It was now his turn to be silent, and he remained so for some time,
his eyes fixed on the shadowing heavens. The waves were roughening
slightly and a swell from the Atlantic lifted the 'Diana' curtsying
over their foam-flecked crests as she ploughed her way swiftly
along. Presently he turned to me with a smile.