“Take a hot bath,” she directed.  “Then I’m going to give you just a little to eat.  And then these.”  She held out the drug.

Io acquiesced dully.

Early in the morning, before the first forelight of dawn had started the birds to prophetic chirpings, the recluse heard light movements in the outer room.  Throwing on a robe she went in to investigate.  On the bearskin before the flickering fire sat Io, an apparition of soft curves.

“D—­d—­don’t make a light,” she whimpered.  “I’ve been crying.”

“That’s good.  The best thing you could do.”

“I want to go home,” wailed Io.

“That’s good, too.  Though perhaps you’d better wait a little.  Why, in particular do you want to go home?”

“I w-w-w-want to m-m-marry Delavan Eyre.”

A quiver of humor trembled about the corners of Camilla Van Arsdale’s mouth.  “Echoes of remorse,” she commented.

“No.  It isn’t remorse.  I want to feel safe, secure.  I’m afraid of things.  I want to go to-morrow.  Tell Mr. Banneker he must arrange it for me.”

“We’ll see.  Now you go back to bed and sleep.”

“I’d rather sleep here,” said Io.  “The fire is so friendly.”  She curled herself into a little soft ball.

Her hostess threw a coverlet over her and returned to her own room.

When light broke, there was no question of Io’s going that day, even had accommodations been available.  A clogging lassitude had descended upon her, the reaction of cumulative nervous stress, anesthetizing her will, her desires, her very limbs.  She was purposeless, ambitionless, except to lie and rest and seek for some resolution of peace out of the tangled web wherein her own willfulness had involved her.

“The best possible thing,” said Camilla Van Arsdale.  “I’ll write your people that you are staying on for a visit.”

“Yes; they won’t mind.  They’re used to my vagaries.  It’s awfully good of you.”

At noon came Banneker to see Miss Welland.  Instead he found a curiously reticent Miss Van Arsdale.  Miss Welland was not feeling well and could not be seen.

“Not her head again, is it?” asked Banneker, alarmed.

“More nerves, though the head injury probably contributed.”

“Oughtn’t I to get a doctor?”

“No.  All that she needs is rest.”

“She left the station yesterday without a word.”

“Yes,” replied the non-committal Miss Van Arsdale.

“I came over to tell her that there isn’t a thing to be had going west.  Not even an upper.  There was an east-bound in this morning.  But the schedule isn’t even a skeleton yet.”

“Probably she won’t be going for several days yet,” said Miss Van Arsdale, and was by no means reassured by the unconscious brightness which illumined Banneker’s face.  “When she goes it will be east.  She’s changed her plans.”

“Give me as much notice as you can and I’ll do my best for her.”