“She said nothing more about you, nor did I. A moment later she
   sent away her pony and went indoors.

   “After luncheon I found her lying in the hammock in the patio,
   eyes closed as though asleep.  She lay there all the afternoon—­an
   unusual thing for her.

“Toward sundown, as I was entering my chair to go back to the hotel, she came out and stood beside the chair looking at me as though she was trying to say something.  I don’t know what it might have been, for she never said it, but she bent down and laid her cheek against mine for a moment, and drew my head around, searching my eyes.

“I don’t know whether I was right or wrong, but I said:  ’There is no one to compare with you, Shiela, in your new incarnation of health and youth.  I never before knew you; I don’t think you ever before knew yourself.’

   “‘Not entirely,’ she said.

   “‘Do you now?’

   “‘I think so....  May I ask you something?’

   “I nodded, smiling.

   “’Then—­there is only one thing I care for now—­to’—­she looked
   up toward the house—­’to make them contented—­to make up to them
   what I can for—­for all that I failed in.  Do you understand?’

   “‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you sweet thing.’  And gave her a little hug,
   adding:  ’And that’s why I’m going to write a letter to-night—­at
   your mother’s desire—­and my own.’

   “She said nothing more; my chair rolled away; and here’s the
   letter that I told her I meant to write.

     “’Now, dear, come if you think best.  I don’t know of any
     reason why you should not come; if you know of any you must
     act on your own responsibility.’

“Last winter, believing that she cared for you, I did an extraordinary thing—­in fact I intimated to her that it was agreeable for me to believe you cared for each other.  And she told me very sweetly that I was in error.

“So I’m not going to place Constance Palliser in such a position again.  If there’s any chance of her caring for you you ought to know it and act accordingly.  Personally I think there is and that you should take that chance and take it now.  But for goodness’ sake don’t act on my advice.  I’m a perfect fool to meddle this way; besides I’m having troubles of my own which you know nothing about.

“O Garry, dear, if you’ll come down I may perhaps have something
very, very foolish to tell you.

“Truly there is no idiot like an old one, but—­I’m close, I
think, to being happier than I ever was in all my life.  God help
us both, my dear, dear boy.

“Your faithful
“CONSTANCE.”

* * * * *

CHAPTER XXIX

CALYPSO’S GIFT

Two days later as his pretty aunt stood in her chamber shaking out the chestnut masses of her hair before her mirror, an impatient rapping at the living-room door sent her maid flying.