"What does it mean?" he cried again.
"It means, dear Francis, that you have been very ill for a long, long time—that years have passed without your knowing it, and that the years in passing have robbed us of our dear ones."
"How long?" he asked in a low whisper.
"Twenty-two years," she answered steadily.
"When did Phil die?"
"Nearly twenty years ago."
"Twenty years!" he echoed; "and I did not know!"
"You did not know because you had an accident which destroyed your memory."
"An accident?"
"Yes. The horse you were riding threw and injured you."