"Imagine how they felt, Mildred! How eager they were; how delighted. They had been away from home for years by this time, and were longing to return. They had each their own castle in the air, and it seemed as if this money would build it on solid earth. For some time everything flourished, then--one morning--" Miss Margaret paused, and drew a difficult breath; Mildred stared at her with dilated eyes. "My friend wrote me all about it. They had finished breakfast and strolled out together, talking of what they would do when the next few weeks were over, and the money was paid down. They were to buy presents in Colombo, take passages in the first steamer, and come home laden with spoils. The partner--his name was `Ned'--was picturing the scene which would take place at his home when he distributed the treasures which he had bought for his sisters--amethyst rings, tortoise-shell brushes, brass ornaments. He walked on ahead, gesticulating, and waving his hands in the air. Suddenly he stopped short, started violently, and stared at one of the carefully-guarded cinchona-trees. "`What is it, Ned?' cried his partner, and at that the other turned his face. It had been all bright and sparkling a moment before. It was changed now--like the face of an old, old man. My friend looked and saw: the leaves were shrivelling--it was the beginning of the red blight!" Miss Margaret jumped up from her seat and began to pace the room. Her voice quivered; her eyes had a suspicious brightness; while Mildred was undisguisedly tearful. "Oh, Mardie! How awful! Oh, the poor, poor fellows! What did they do?" "There was nothing to be done. They knew that by experience. The blight would spread and spread until the whole estate was destroyed. They could do nothing to stop it. They went back to the bungalow and sat there all day long--without speaking a word or lifting their eyes from the ground. All the years of hard, unceasing work had been for nothing--" Mardie stopped abruptly. "And after--afterwards?" Mardie stood with her back to her companion, as if avoiding her glance. Her voice had a curiously tired, listless expression. "Oh!--they dug up the ground to plant tea, and began life over again." "But, Mardie, dear, don't be so sorry! It was terribly hard, but after all it is over, and it did not affect your own personal happiness!" Mardie moved the ornaments on the dressing-table with nervous fingers. "It is getting late," she said. "Put on your hat, Mildred, and let us have a stroll in the garden before it is dusk." CHAPTER FIVE. SUNSHINE AGAIN! The next day brought reassuring news of Robbie, who had had a good night, and was distinctly better. Mildred was devoutly thankful; but now that the strain of anxiety was relieved, the loneliness of her position began to weigh upon her with all the old intensity. She grew tired of reading and writing letters, and the silence of the big, empty house weighed upon her spirits.