"There was no one among us who had any knowledge of surgery, and so I had to be content with simples--cold-water compresses for the wound and a tea made from the blossoms of the camomile flower to subdue the fever in the blood. So the days dragged by until the turn for the better came. Little by little I nursed her back to life again, and in time we came safely to Doom. "Arcadia House was a secure hiding-place for my treasure, and during all these years no one has even guessed at the secret. I had no need to trust my servants, for they knew nothing; the walls had neither eyes nor ears, and I kept my own counsel. Until to-day no man's eye but mine has looked upon her face. "But even yet you do not wholly understand. Have you forgotten, then, that the body may be in health and yet the soul be darkened? She had come back to life, indeed, but it was the life of a butterfly in the sun, unconscious of aught else than the light and warmth that surrounds it. For her the past had been sealed; to me the future. Do you understand now? A woman grown and yet as a new-born babe in heart and mind. What was there for me to do but to bear my punishment as patiently as I might, the cup of love ever at my lips, but never to be tasted." Constans kept silence for a little space. When he spoke it was haltingly. "Then you think--you think----" "She recognized you. Could you not see it--that note in her voice as of one who wakes from a long sleep? That was why I stopped you from throwing aside the window-curtains. The light of the burning city--it might have brought back the memory of that night at the keep." "And for the same reason you have kept yourself out of sight," said Constans, coldly. The man trembled. "Yes; I am afraid," he answered, and Constans, for all his bitterness of heart, was fain to pity him. A series of muffled explosions startled them. Quinton Edge moved softly towards the outer door. "The fire must be coming nearer," he whispered. "I will make sure of our position and return within a few minutes. Hush! she is sleeping again." But when Constans went and stood by the couch, Issa was looking at him with wide-opened eyes. "Constans--little brother," she said, weakly, and yet with an infinite content. He dropped to his knees beside her and tried to answer, but could not. "Surely it must be close to morning now," she went on, slowly. "I can hear the doves cooing on the tiles, the wind is blowing over the water-meadows, and the lark is in the blue--ah, God! how beautiful this dear world of ours! It is the May-time, little brother, and the arbutus will be in bloom--the shy, pink blossoms that nestle on the sunny slopes of the rocks and at the roots of the birch-trees. We will gather them--you and I--and bring them home to deck our lady mother's chamber. The May-bloom--it is in the air. How sweet--how sweet!"