Now matters were different. Ethel's act of self-devotion had led her upwards to something far above—infinitely beyond. Fulvia had gained in this illness new knowledge of ONE whose life and death were pure self-sacrifice, who had not lived to Himself, but to God and for men. That which had been a story to her before was at last reality. A fresh and wonderful light was shed upon everything. Slowly, dawning like daylight, the light came. Fulvia was in no haste. She waited to see more, submitting like a little child. To such an attitude of waiting the needed lessons are always sent. Two clear thoughts gradually rose into prominence, the first embracing the second, the second springing from the first. Christ had given Rig life for her! Could she do less than devote her life unto Him? That was the first and greater thought. Ethel had been willing to die for Fulvia! Could not Fulvia voluntarily give up her heart's desire for Ethel? That was the second and lesser thought. The first was the easier of acceptance. The second, which of necessity followed, caused hard battling. But gradually Fulvia's resolution was taken. She was thinking over this resolution as she sat in the study, facing her future, trying, not without success, to be glad in Nigel's coming happiness. "For he will be happy!" she murmured. "And I may love him still—as his sister. We were brother and sister so many years. Just going back to the old order of things. It will not be so hard now—perhaps—now I can love Ethel too." There was a stir of arrival at the front door. Fulvia sat still, trembling. She was not strong yet, though she looked well. She had said that she would see Nigel alone, and the others had acquiesced; only Daisy asked her mother curiously, "I wonder why?" "My dear, don't ask. Say nothing," Mrs. Browning answered sadly. Some little delay took place. Fulvia could hear voices—Nigel's sounding cheerful. She locked her hands together, resolute to be calm. Then Nigel came into the room. "They told me I should find you here," he said. Fulvia had not resolved how to act, had not been able to decide. Now a sudden impulse came: and when he entered, she rose slowly, holding out her hand. "Am I not to have a kiss, Fulvia?" he asked in his kindest tone. He looked much better for the change, brighter than she had seen him for some time. "If you like—as my brother!" she said distinctly, though her heart beat almost to suffocation. His glance was of perplexity—more perplexity than distress, Fulvia knew. She withdrew her hand, and sat down, and Nigel did not give the kiss permitted on those terms. He stood gazing at her, intensely serious. "Has your holiday done you good?" she asked after a pause. "Yes. I do not understand. Has anything happened to annoy you? What can you mean?" "What I said—simply." "I don't understand." She held the arm of her chair fast. "Only—that we are brother and sister again. Reversion to the old order of things."