As night came on she found herself listening for his step with an eagerness that appalled her--appalled her and filled her with rage and humiliation as well. But she did not hear it. Even Philip felt the restlessness which comes from an expected presence delayed--fretting, "I want Unker Wichard to hold me." "Mama will hold you, darling. Uncle Richard is not here." "But I want Unker Wichard." It seemed to her that her heart would break. Not only had this man blighted both their lives but he had stolen her place in the child's heart, and then--left them. It was the way with men. Philip was so insistent that Mammy Cely said at last, "Yo' Uncle Richard ain't gwine come back to-night, honey. He done say so." Then to Mrs. De Jarnette, "No'm, I don't know whar he went. But look lak he was powerful anxious to git away, for some cause whatsomever. It did so." She had not been told about the new danger. The doctor came out early the next day and had a plain talk with her. "He is threatened with choroiditis, an affection of the eyes that sometimes follows febrile diseases. So long as the trouble is confined to the outer regions of the choroid, it was not dangerous, but I feel it my duty to say to you that if it should attack the central field of vision it would be likely to result in gradual blindness. But he has many things in his favor and we will hope for the best. In the meantime, he should be under the care of a specialist. I do not feel competent to treat him. It was this that I was intending to say to you yesterday when the worst was forced upon you by your unfortunately overhearing the words between Mr. De Jarnette and myself." He went on to say that he had tried to get Dr. Helsor, a Washington specialist, out to see him, but that he was ill and could not come. He had wanted to get expert advice before saying anything to alarm her, etc. Perhaps it might be a good plan to take him to Johns Hopkins to the hospital or even to Philadelphia. If she desired he would go with her and make arrangements for his admission. What did she think about it? She felt that she could not give him an answer. Now that she was the sole arbiter of Philip's fortunes she was strangely loth to take upon herself the burden of decision. If she could only talk it over with--with Mrs. Pennybacker, she told herself weakly. It was Mrs. Pennybacker she wanted to take counsel with. In her inmost heart--the one we cannot delude--she knew it was Richard. Richard De Jarnette! The hot blood crimsoned her face at the shame of it.