“And from what deeps did you draw such profound wisdom?” he asked quizzically.

Sara laughed a little.

“I had it well rubbed into me by my Uncle Patrick,” she replied.  “It was his Credo.”

“And yet, I can understand any one’s nerves cracking suddenly—­after a prolonged strain.”

“I don’t think yours would,” responded Sara contentedly, with a vivid recollection of their expedition to the island and its aftermath.

“Possibly not.  But I suppose no man can be dead sure of himself—­always.”

“Will you come in?” asked Sara as they paused at Sunnyside gate.

“Not to-day, I think.  I had better begin to accustom myself to doing without you, as I am going away so soon”—­smiling.

“I wish you were not going,” she rejoined discontentedly.  “I so wanted you and Elisabeth to meet. Must you go?”

“I’m afraid I must.  And it’s better that I should go, on the whole.  I should only be raging up and down like an untied devil because Mrs. Durward was taking up so much of your time!  Let her have you to herself for a few days—­and then, when I come back, I shall have you to myself again.”

CHAPTER XXIV

PATCHES OF BLUE

Elisabeth frowned a little as she perused the letter which she had that morning received from Sara.  It contained the information that rooms in her name had been booked at the Cliff Hotel, and further, that Sara was much disappointed that it would be impossible to arrange for her to meet Garth Trent, as he was leaving home on the Wednesday prior to her arrival.

Trent’s departure was the last thing Elisabeth desired.  Above all things, she wanted to meet the man whom she regarded as the stumbling-block in the path of her son, for if it were possible that anything might yet be done to further the desire of Tim’s heart, it could only be if Elisabeth, as the dea ex machina, were acquainted with all the pieces in the game.

She must know what manner of man it was who had succeeded in winning Sara’s heart before she could hope to combat his influence, and, if the feet of clay were there, she must see them herself before she could point them out to Sara’s love-illusioned eyes.  Should she fail of making Trent’s acquaintance, she would be fighting in the dark.

Elisabeth pondered the matter for some time.  Finally, she dispatched a telegram, prepaying a reply, to the proprietor of the Cliff Hotel, and a few hours later she announced to her husband that she proposed antedating her visit to Monkshaven by three days.

“I shall go down the day after to-morrow—­on Monday,” she said.

“Then I’d better send a wire to Sara,” suggested Geoffrey.

“No, don’t do that.  I intend taking her by surprise.”  Elisabeth smiled and dimpled like a child in the possession of a secret.  “I shall go down there just in time for dinner, and write to Sara the same evening.”