"No," she answered; "that was the extraordinary part of it. Quite suddenly I saw everything green for a second, and then everything went out in a green flash. It was a wonderful, liquid green, like the sea over a sand-bank. It was just a long flash, very quick and sharp, and then I found I could see nothing at all. Everything is black now, the black of an intense green. I thought I'd been struck by lightning. Wasn't it silly of me?" "My poor, brave little woman," I murmured. "Tell me, where were you then?" "Just where you found me, on the Chemist's Rock. I call it the Chemist's Rock because it's shaped like a cough-lozenge. I was casting from there; it makes a beautiful fishing-table. I looked up, and then--well, then it happened." "We're just coming to the house," said Myra suddenly. "We're just going to turn on to the stable-path." "Darling!" I cried, nearly dropping her in my excitement; "you can see already?" "Oh, Ronnie, I'm so sorry," she said penitently. "I only knew by the smell of the peat stacks." I could not restrain a groan of disappointment, and Myra stroked my face, and murmured again, "I'm sorry, dearest." "Will you please put me down now?" she asked. "If daddy saw you carrying me to the house he'd have a fit, and the servants would go into hysterics." So I put her tenderly on her feet, and she took my arm, and we walked slowly to the house. She could see nothing, not even in the hazy confusion of the nearly blind; yet she walked to the house with as firm a step and as natural an air as if she had nothing whatever the matter with her. "You had better leave dad to me, Ron," she suggested. "We understand each other, and I can explain to him. You would find it difficult, and it would be painful for you both. Just tell him that I'm not feeling very well, and he'll come straight to me. Don't tell him I want to see him. Give me your arm to my den, dear." I led her to her "den," a little room opening on to the verandah. There was a writing-table in the window covered with correspondence in neat little piles, for Myra was on all the charity committees in the county, and the rest of the room was given up to a profusion of fishing tackle, shooting gear, and books. Sholto followed us, every now and then rubbing his great head against her skirt. I left her there, and turned into the hall, where I met the General. He had heard us return. "You're back early, my boy," he remarked. "Yes," I said, taking out my cigarette-case to give myself an air of assurance which was utterly unknown to me. "Myra is not feeling very well. She's resting for a bit." "Not well?" he exclaimed, in surprise. "Very unusual, very unusual indeed." And he turned straight into Myra's room without waiting for an answer to his quiet tap on the door. With a heavy heart I went upstairs to the old schoolroom, now given over to Mary McNiven, Myra's old nurse.