"Yes, now I am remembering--remembering!" She stood with eagerly parted lips, and glancing quickly round with glowing eyes, whose light faded in the same instant. "No!" she said, mournfully, "it's gone." A sound of wheels in the road ceased, and her father's voice called: "Don't you want to take my place, and let me walk awhile, Nannie?" "No. You come to me, papa. Something very strange has happened; something you will be surprised at. Hurry!" She seemed to be joking, as he was, while she beckoned him impatiently towards her. He had left his carriage, and he came up with a heavy man's quickened pace. "Well, what is the wonderful thing?" he panted out. She stared blankly at him, without replying, and they silently made their way to Mr. Gerald's carriage. "I lost the way, and Miss Gerald found it," Lanfear explained, as he helped her to the place beside her father. She said nothing, and almost with sinking into the seat, she sank into that deep slumber which from time to time overtook her. "I didn't know we had gone so far--or rather that we had waited so long before we started down the hills," Lanfear apologized in an involuntary whisper. "Oh, it's all right," her father said, trying to adjust the girl's fallen head to his shoulder. "Get in and help me--" Lanfear obeyed, and lent a physician's skilled aid, which left the cumbrous efforts of her father to the blame he freely bestowed on them. "You'll have to come here on the other side," he said. "There's room enough for all three. Or, hold on! Let me take your place." He took the place in front, and left her to Lanfear's care, with the trust which was the physician's right, and with a sense of the girl's dependence in which she was still a child to him. They did not speak till well on the way home. Then the father leaned forward and whispered huskily: "Do you think she's as strong as she was?" Lanfear waited, as if thinking the facts over. He murmured back: "No. She's better. She's not so strong." "Yes," the father murmured. "I understand."