A note received from Mr. Perry twenty-four hours later and read to her by her little daughter reassured her as to his indulgence in respect to her absence. All her interest now became centred on a rapid recovery, and she made sundry attempts to bring the doctor to book as to the date when she would be able to resume work again, which he smilingly evaded. She was conscious, however, of increasing bodily vigor, which was comforting. The inability of her eyes to endure the light was her chief discomfort, a condition which her physician appeared to her to ignore, until he arrived one morning with a brother practitioner, who proved to be an oculist, and who had brought with him some of the apparatus of his specialty for the purpose of a diagnosis. Constance could not bear the sphinx-like urbanities which followed the examination. She felt possessed by a desire to have the exact condition of affairs revealed to her. She lifted her head, and addressing her own doctor, said: "I should like to know the truth, please. Do not conceal anything. It will be much worse for me to find out later that something has been kept back." The family physician looked at the specialist as much as to say that he proposed to throw the burden on him, but he answered, "So far as your general physical condition is concerned, you are practically well, Mrs. Stuart. All the brain symptoms have disappeared, and there are no lesions of any kind. It is now simply a question of nerves--and your eyes. Dr. Dale can speak more authoritatively about the latter." Dr. Dale, the oculist, a man in the prime of life, with precise methods and a closely cut Van Dyke beard, hesitated briefly, as though he were analyzing his patient, then said with courteous incisiveness--"It is a question of nerves, as Dr. Baldwin has explained. The nerves affected in your case are those of the eyes. Since you have expressed a wish to know the exact state of affairs, I take you at your word, Mrs. Stuart. I agree with you that it is more satisfactory to know the truth, and I am glad to be able to assure you that by the end of six months, if you give your eyes entire rest, their weakness will be cured, and you will be able to use them as freely as before." He had rather the air of conferring a benefit than of pronouncing a sentence, and Constance received his statement in that spirit. "Thank you," she said. "I will be as careful as I can." "The condition of your cure," the specialist continued with polite relentlessness, "is that you abstain from using them altogether." Constance experienced a thrill of concern. "Which means?" "It means, Mrs. Stuart, that you must not sew, read, write, or undertake any form of application where the eyes are a factor." She could not believe her ears. "I am a clerk in a law-office. My employment is stenography and type-writing," she said, tentatively. He nodded. Evidently he had been informed. "It will be impossible for you to continue it."