Ralph Gowan, on making his friendly calls, and hearing this, was both anxious and puzzled. In a very short time after his return he had awakened to a recognition of some mysterious shadow upon the household. Vagabondia had lost its spirits. Mrs. Phil and her husband were almost thoughtful; Tod disported himself unregarded and unadmired, comparatively speaking; Mollie seemed half frightened by the aspect affairs were wearing; and Aimee's wise, round face had an older look. And then these letters! Dolly “trying Switzerland” for her health, Dolly mysteriously ill and far away from home,--too weak sometimes to write. Dolly, who had never seemed to have a weakness; who had entered the lists against even Lady Augusta, and had come off victorious; who had been mock-worldly, and coquettish, and daring; who had made open onslaught upon eligible Philistines; who had angled prettily and with sinful success for ineligible Bohemians! What did it mean? And where was Donne? Certainly he was never to be seen at Bloomsbury Place or in its vicinity in these days. But, deeply interested as he was, Gowan was not the man to ask questions; so he could only wait until chance brought the truth to light. He came to the house upon one occasion and found Aimée crying quietly over one of Miss MacDowlas's letters in the parlor, and in his sympathy he felt compelled to speak openly to her. Then Aimée, heavy of heart and full of despairing grief, handed him the letter to read. “I have known it would be so--from the first,” she sobbed. “We are going to lose her. Perhaps she will not live to come home again.” “You mean Dolly?” he said. “Yes,” hysterically. “Miss MacDowlas says--” But she could get no further. This was what Miss MacDowlas said:-- “I cannot think it would be right to hide from you that your sister is very ill, though she does not complain, and persists in treating her increasing weakness lightly. Indeed, I am sure that she herself does not comprehend her danger. I am inclined to believe that it has not yet occurred to her that she is in danger at all. She protests that she cannot be ill so long as she does not suffer; but I, who have watched her day by day, can see only too plainly where the danger lies. And so I think it best to warn you to be prepared to come to us at once if at any time I should send for you hurriedly.” “Prepared to go to them!” commented Aimée. “What does that mean? What can it mean but that our own Dolly is dying, and may slip out of the world away from us at any moment? Oh, Grif! Grif! what have you done?” Gowan closed the letter. “Miss Aimée,” he said, “where _is_ Donne?” Aimée fairly wrung her hands. “I don't know,” she quite wailed. “If I only did--if I only knew where I could find him!” “You don't know!” exclaimed Gowan. “And Dolly dying in Switzerland!”