wisdom seemed curiously limited. David's malady--if it was to be called a malady--was nothing less than the delirium caused by love itself, and as such beyond the reach of clinic or laboratory. The spell, the witchcraft, that had transformed him was wrought by Sajipona. At first Una had not believed this; now the sudden conviction that the man she loved was faithless to her, had always been faithless to her, brought an overwhelming sense of bitterness. Her former anxiety to save him--from peril as she thought--gave place to a feeling that was almost vindictive. She did not view him with the anger of the jealous woman merely; she wanted to have done with him, to forget him altogether. His name was linked by this beautiful Indian to one of the legends of her race; let it remain there! "Why disturb him now?" she demanded passionately of Sajipona. "He loves you, he is content." The revulsion of feeling in her voice was unmistakable. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes, eloquent hitherto of womanly tenderness, dilated in anger. Sajipona smiled enigmatically. "If you had not come," she said, "there would have been no question. But you are here. He seems to have forgotten you. I am not sure, I want to be certain, now that he has forgotten you, that he is still himself." "Why do you doubt? Yes, he has forgotten me. And he is in your power, he is yours! Why hazard anything further?" Sajipona ignored the scornful meaning conveyed in the words, regarding Una with a detachment indicating her absorption in a new train of thought. "A moment ago you were anxious for his safety," she murmured. "You came here to look for him, to rescue him. Perhaps I have been unjust--perhaps you have a claim----" "I have no claim," retorted Una proudly. "Once you saved his life. He has come to you again. He loves you. What man could help loving you!" she added bitterly. Still Sajipona smiled. "I must be sure of all this--and so must you," she said. "If the witchcraft is mine, its power will soon be broken. If there is something else, you, Senor, will discover it." She turned impatiently to Raoul, desiring him to go with her to David. Una refused to accompany them. The conviction that she had been mistaken, deluded, filled her with an unconquerable aversion to meeting the man for whom she had been willing to sacrifice so much. Aware of the unreasonableness of this feeling, she yet had no wish to conquer it. To escape from this land of mysteries and terrors, to return to the simple familiar environment of Rysdale--to forget, if that were possible--was now her one desire. She did not attempt to explain or justify herself to Sajipona. Nor was this necessary. To Sajipona, Una's anger and its cause were alike evident. "Stay here, if you will, with Narva," said the queen, with real or feigned indifference. "But remember, you have refused to save the man whom you think is in danger."