"He will come back--he must come back! Amadis!--Amadis!--you will not leave me all alone?--No, no, you cannot be so cruel!" She stretched out her arms as though to embrace some invisible treasure in the air--"Priscilla! ... Priscilla!" Then as Priscilla took her gently round the waist and tried to calm her she began to laugh again. "The old motto!--you remember it?--the motto of the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!--'Mon coeur me soutien!' You know what it means--'My heart sustains me.' Yes--and you know why his heart is so strong? Because it is made of stone! A stone heart can sustain anything!--it is hard and firm and cold--no rain, no tears can soften it!--no flowers ever grow on it--it does not beat--it feels nothing--nothing!"--and her hands dropped wearily at her sides. "It is not like MY heart! my heart burns and aches--it is a foolish heart, and my brain is a foolish brain--I cannot think with it--it is all dark and confused! And I have no one to help me--I am all alone in the world!" "Innocent!" cried Robin passionately--"Oh, my love, my darling!--try to recall your dear wandering mind! You are here in the old home you used to love so well--you are not alone--you never shall be alone any more. I am with you to love you and take care of you--I have loved you always--I shall love you till I die!" She looked at him with a sudden smile. "Robin!--It is Robin!--you poor boy! You always talked like that!--but you must not love me,--I have no love to give you--I would make you happy if I could, but I cannot!" A violent shudder as of icy cold shook her limbs--she stretched out her hands pitifully. "Would you take me somewhere to sleep?" she murmured--"I am very tired! And when he comes you will wake me--I will not keep him a moment waiting! Tell him I am quite well--and that I knew he did not mean to be unkind--" Her voice broke--she tottered and nearly fell. Robin caught her in his arms and laid her gently back in the chair, where she seemed to lapse into unconsciousness. He turned a white, desperate face on Priscilla. "What is to be done?" he asked,--"Shall I go for the doctor?" Priscilla shook her head. "The doctor would be no use," she answered--"She's just fairly worn out and wants rest. Her little room is ready,--I've kept it aired, and the bed made warm and cosy ever since she went away--lest she should ever come back sudden like... could you carry her up, d'ye think? She'll be better in her bed--and she would come to herself quicker."