"It is not insanity of an incurable kind," gravely remarked Mr. Harris. "I have closely watched her facial expression and it appears to me the trace of reason is not entirely gone. I think she is delirious, and I have read that when persons are delirious some slight token, perchance a flower, a chord of melody, a face, a name, brought forcibly to bear on the mind may recall it to moments of reason. If it is so, then her intellect will recover from the shock. We will bring this to proof, Mrs. Thorpe," he proceeded, "look at these friends about you; do you not remember any of us?" "I must not rest longer," Constance said suddenly; "I thought I had her once, but the water was so deep I could not reach her." "We must get her into the house and into bed at once," said Virginia, clasping her tenderly about the waist. "Dear me! Yes, I am sure her wet garments will jeopardize her health," said Mrs. Harris in support of Virginia. But Constance resisted, and in doing so sat down on the bench. Hazel addressed her: "Constance, do you not know me? Do you not remember Hazel? Try to think, dear Constance, you surely cannot forget me!" She slowly shook her head and said plaintively: "The storm is over. Make the boat go faster. We must be quick. There, she is calling--'Mama! Papa! Mama! Help!' Listen, Virginia, dear, do you not hear her?" And sure, enough, the voice of Dorothy was heard, saying: "Oh, Sam! Where is mama? Tell me." And around from the conservatory, with a snow white aster in her hand, ran the child, followed by Sam, who, fearing the child in her rambles was likely to discover the presence of Rutley, induced her to appear on the front lawn by telling her that her mother was not far away. The child did not stop, but continued right up to her mother and clasped her arms about her neck. "Oh, mama! Dear mama! I'm so glad you have come! Aren't you going to kiss me?" Receiving no immediate response, the child unclasped her arms and drew back a pace offended. "That voice!" said Constance, startled. She drew the tips of her fingers across her forehead, very much like one clutching at the filmy shreds of a vanishing dream. "Oh, the boat rocks!" "Mama, aren't you going to speak to me?" and tears began to gather in the child's eyes. Again Constance started, and her frame trembled, as her eyes rested on Dorothy. She raised her hands slowly and covered her face. Again she removed her hands and muttered: "It's a spectre--a thing unreal which haunts me. Leave me. Pity me, oh, pity me, shade of my darling! You pain me! You make my heart ache! Go, go!" Dorothy wept, and turning to Virginia, said: "Mama won't kiss me, nor speak to me," and the heartbroken child buried her head sobbing in the folds of Virginia's dress.