"Thank you, Gerald," she said, softly, "you are so kind. You have always been kind to me, ever since I was quite little," and half unconsciously she allowed her still throbbing head to lean for a moment on his shoulder. It was rather hard upon him--the perfect sisterliness of the little action made it all the more so. A sudden fear came over him that she would feel how fast his heart was beating, and would be startled into consciousness. So, very gently, under pretence of arranging the sofa cushion, he removed the arm that was round her. She did not seem to observe it. "Are you better now, Eugenia?" he said, kindly. "I don't know if I did right in opening the window, for I believe it must have been a chill that made you faint. But I am no doctor, and a good blow of fresh air was the only thing that occurred to me." "I am sure it was the best thing to do," she answered; "I am not cold now. I don't think it was real cold. It must have been the feeling of fainting coming on. I never fainted before, and I have always thought it _so_ silly," she added with a little smile. "I am all right now, I shall go upstairs in a minute, Gerald." Appealingly, "You won't tell anybody?" "Not if you promise me to tell Sydney, and see the doctor if you have any return of it, or don't feel quite well in any way." "Very well, I will promise that," she replied, meekly enough. "It was very good of you not to call any one and make a fuss." Then, after a moment's hesitation, the hot colour rushing over her pale face, she added in a lower voice, "Gerald, didn't I say something?" There was no use parrying her inquiry. Sorely against his will, Gerald found himself obliged to accept the position of her confidant. "Yes," he said, simply; Eugenia did not perceive that it was sternly as well. "Ah, I thought so," she murmured. "I know I can trust you, though sometimes one prefers to trust no one. Don't misunderstand me," she added quickly, becoming alive to the grave expression of his face; "in _one_ sense, I should not care if everybody knew what you suspect. No one need be ashamed of I can't explain. I mean, I don't want pity. I am not to be pitied, and _no one_ is to be blamed. Only, people who only know half cannot understand, so I feel that my strength just now lies in silence." Mr Thurston looked at her very anxiously, the hard look melting out of his face. "Take care you do not overrate your strength," he said gently. Eugenia smiled, but said nothing. Then she stood up, and was about to try if she could walk, when Gerald stopped her. "Wait one instant," he exclaimed, and before she had the least idea what he meant, he was back again with a glass of wine. "Drink that, or at least half of it," he said. "I found it on the sideboard. It must be getting near dinner-time." Eugenia did as he told her, and then he let her go.