She was in it before I could stop her, and Rex, who heard her voice, welcomed her with a glad smile and put up his hand which she took in one of hers, while the other she laid upon his forehead. “Oh,” he said, in a tone of relief. “That is good. It stops the hornets and frightens the eye. I don’t see it now, with you looking at me. Sit down. I like to have you here. Why didn’t you come before?” He was not quite himself, and I trembled every moment for the effect Rena might have upon him. But he was very quiet as she stroked his hair and let her fingers move gently across his forehead. “You will leave me with him a while,” she said to me. “It will not take long and I cannot get my courage up again. I’ll tell you and everybody when it is over why I came.” The look in her eyes conquered me; and going out, I closed the door and left her alone with Rex. Rena had fully made up her mind to confess her fault and had gone over and over with what she meant to say, until it seemed very easy. But now that the time had come, and she was with him face to face, her wits left her and she was dumb, but kept on rubbing Rex’s head and hands and creating little electric thrills which he felt in every nerve. At last when she knew that she must speak she drew her hands away and sinking upon her knees covered her face and burst into a paroxysm of sobbing. “Oh, what is it?” Rex asked, in alarm. “Mr. Travers,” she began at last, lifting up her face, down which the tears were pouring, “I have come to tell you something dreadful and ask your forgiveness. I am not what you think I am, I am the girl Sandy McPherson saw on the beach and the one mentioned in his will. My name is Irene it is true, but I am always called Rena. It has been a wretched mistake, a deception, a lie from the beginning.” She stopped, startled by the expression of his face. He understood perfectly what she had said and the shock was very great, taking away the little strength she had given him. For a moment he neither spoke, nor stirred, but looked at her with an eager, questioning gaze, then said: “Tell me while I can understand. Things are going from me again.” He seemed to feel that the films of delirium were weaving their webs across his brain, which would soon be shrouded in darkness, and wished her to hurry while his sense remained.