The next day he organised a picnic, and made them sit at their ease while he cooked and did all the work. They spent the day in a grove of laurels, and sailed home in the dusk. It was on the following day that Nina twice caught him looking at her in a peculiarly searching manner. Each time she experienced a slight chill and faintness, for which she was at a loss to account. She reddened with anger and terror, and he shifted his eyes quickly. When he left, the next morning, she drew a long sigh of relief, then, without warning, began to sob hysterically. "There is something about that man!" she announced to the alarmed Miss Shropshire. "What is it? Do you suppose he is a mesmerist? He gave me the most dreadful feeling at times. Oh, I wish Dudley were here!" "Why don't you send for him?" "I don't know! I don't know! I wish the year were over!" "It is your own will that makes it a year. I don't see any sense in it, myself. I believe this climate, and being away from everything, has set you up. Why not send for him, and live here for some months longer? He is your natural protector, anyhow. What's a man good for?" "Oh, I feel as if I must! Wait till to-morrow. That man has made me nervous; I may feel quite placid to-morrow, and I ought to wait. It is only right to wait." And the next day she was herself again, and dismissed the evil spell of Dr. Clough with a contemptuous shrug. Nor would she send for Thorpe. "I may cut it down to eight months," she said. "But I must wait that long." III A week later Miss Shropshire returned to San Francisco. Nina was not sorry to be alone again. She drifted back into her communion with the inanimate things about her, into the exaltation of spirit, impossible in human companionship, and lived for Thorpe's letters. One day she received a letter from Dr. Clough. "DEAR COUSIN NINA," it ran. "I am to have the practice in Napa, but not for two or three months, unfortunately, for I look forward to meeting you again. Those few days with you and Miss Molly were delightful to the lonely wanderer, who has never known a home." ("Not since he wore clogs," thought Nina.) "Perhaps some day I shall make substantial acknowledgment of my gratitude. This is a world of vicissitudes, as we all know. Remember this--will you, Nina?--when you need me _I am there._ There are crises in life when a true friend, a relative whose interests merge with one's own, is not to be despised. Don't destroy this letter. Put it by. It is sincere. "Your faithful and obd't servant, "RICHARD CLOUGH." Nina tossed the letter impatiently on the table, then caught it up again and re-read the last pages.