I shall sit with her for an hour and then go to see the doctor.' Mrs.Ormonde passed in.

It was a mean little room, not as tidy as it might have been, and far from as clean.

There on the low pillow was a pale face, with golden hair disordered about the brow; a face so wasted that it was not easy in the first moment to identify it with that which had been so wonderful in its spell-bound beauty by the sea-shore.

But it was Thyrza.
Her eyes were only half closed, and it was not a natural sleep that held her.

Mrs.Ormonde examined her for several moments, then just touched her forehead.