Strange indeed would it have been for that strong hand to lift the curtain from that proud heart. Courteous, generous, chivalrous, he might be to the whole clan of Disbrowes. He might scatter his gold among them with a careless hand; but to scatter the secrets of his lonely life among that frivolous herd was impossible to the man who had endured a mother's dislike, a father's neglect, and the disillusions of a _mariage de convenance_, without one hour of self-betrayal. Vera was childless, and on her frail thread of life hung Mario Provana's millions. Lady Okehampton told herself this in the watches of the night, and told herself that something must be done. It was all very well for Vera to declare that there was nothing the matter with her, while it was visible to the naked eye that the poor child was fading away, in an atrophy of mind and body. "She will either die or go mad," said Lady Okehampton, and the alternative offered visions of a _conseil de famille_, doctors' certificates, and that rabble of fourth and fifth cousins tearing their prey. Long and confidential talks with Mrs. Manby, the housekeeper, and Louison, the maid, had revealed the desperate state of their mistress's health. "No, my lady, she doesn't complain," asserted Mrs Manby. "I'm afraid it's all the worse because she won't complain. But she can't sleep, and she can't eat. Sedgewick knows what her meals are like: just pretending, that's all; and Louison says that, go into her mistress's room when she will, in the middle of the night or in the early morning, she's always lying awake, sometimes reading, sometimes staring at the sky above the window sash, but asleep--never! And it isn't for want of taking things, for she has tried every drug you can put a name to." "Does the doctor prescribe them?" "He used to send her things, in the first few weeks after--the funeral. But she made him believe that she was quite well, and was sleeping and eating as usual, and he left off coming. And then Lady Susan Amphlett brought her tabloids--always the newest thing out. But they've never done her any good. It's the mind that's wrong, my lady." "She was absolutely devoted to Mr. Provana," sighed Lady Okehampton. "No doubt, my lady." "And she can't get over her loss." "No, my lady." Susan Amphlett was of Aunt Mildred's opinion. Something must be done, and it must be done quickly, before any of those Roman cousins could appear upon the scene, prying and questioning, and hinting at a commission of lunacy. Things had come to a perilous pass, when Mrs. Manby, the housekeeper, could talk of her mistress's mind as the seat of the mischief. People who go out of their minds seldom take a long time about it, Lady Susan urged. "It's generally touch and go."