"Little mother, the weather is so lovely I really ought to drive with you to Dairy Dingle, instead of letting you go in that dusty, stuffy car; but you will not wait, and you know I have promised to go to the club german to-morrow night."

"I shall get back in time to help you; the train is due at 7:10. Your dress is already pressed, and ribbons and lace sewed on, but as you have not worn it, I want to be sure about the hang of that skirt. Your sash——"

"Your train is ready to start. Good-bye, Ma-Lila."

"Good-bye, dearie. I wish the club house and Dr. Burbridge were in Jericho! Then you could go with me."

Mrs. Mitchell kissed her companion's cheek and hurried to the car platform, where she paused a moment, looking back at the girl seated in her trap, balancing her lace parasol.

"Are you going directly home?"

"No. I shall call to inquire how Mrs. Whitfield is to-day, and as the bishop has come home from Florida I must congratulate him on his restoration to health. Bring me some titi blossoms."

The bell clanged, the engine puffed, and the train disappeared around a curve. An hour afterward, in front of the post-office, the mail for Nutwood was brought to the trap. Eglah took two letters addressed to herself, and placed the remainder with papers under the cushion of the trap seat.

"Oliver, stop at Holmein's garden. Then go on home and give the mail to father. If he has not returned from fishing, be careful to lay letters and papers on the library table in front of his chair. I shall walk from Holmein's."

The grounds of the florist were nearly a mile from the gates of Nutwood, and on a new street-car line extending to a park that overlooked the river. From Holmein's the broad, sandy road ran straight through thick woods to the avenue of the old house on the hill. Having secured a bunch of double white violets, Judge Kent's favorite flower, his daughter walked homeward. Ivory thuribles of magnolia and bay swung their fragrance up and down the nave of ancient pines, and the profound repose, the silence as of primeval wilds was broken only now and then by the antiphonal plaints of doves lamenting on the lofty green pine cornices, or a low preluding chord, as fingers of the wind touched the leafy pipes of the forest organ.

Many months had passed, and the procession of the seasons brought no comforting element to brighten the monotonous life that so severely taxed Eglah's patience. A card and dinner party on Judge Kent's birthday had pleased him for the moment, but while he praised the menu and decorations, no relaxation of chill politeness rewarded her. Only one al fresco festival was held. When nuts were ripe in autumn the young mistress had invited the children belonging to Sunday-schools and the orphan asylum in Y—— to come one afternoon to Nutwood and gather chestnuts and walnuts. In the grove long tables held refreshments, that were served by Eglah and Eliza to the hungry throng, and for the first time since the war hundreds of happy little ones raced and shouted under the ancestral trees. Several plank seats remained as souvenirs of the occasion, and to-day Eglah turned away from the avenue, and sat down between two young chestnuts. At her feet was a miniature doll house of walnut shells built to amuse a flaxen-haired tot who shrank tearfully from the sharp pricks of chestnut burrs, and begged for a "truly fairy tale."

Now Eglah was reminded of the wide, curious eyes raised to hers when she had repeated:

Laying her flowers beside her, she broke the seal of a letter from Mrs. St. Clair, postmarked New York, and after a moment the sheet fell into her lap. Raising it, she read a second time:

"We are so shocked and grieved to find that Mr. Herriott is actually going on that North Pole expedition we thought he had abandoned. He has been much fÊted since his return last year, and all of our set are heartily sorry to give him up. Some of us believe you could put a stop to this nonsense, if you would only come to your senses, and use your influence. The idea of such a man going into the grewsome business of eating blubber and seal, and possibly Eskimo dog steak! Hunting a graveyard among hummocks! I suggested to him that a better plan would be to go down into a cold-storage vault, throw away the key and slam the spring-lock door. Then we should be allowed the consolation of covering him with flowers."

She replaced the letter in the envelope, and fell into a profound revery. If Mr. Herriott sailed away and never returned, her father could no longer cling to his sole condition of reconciliation. Years ago her own responsibility had ended, and even had she desired to reconsider the proposal of marriage, no opportunity to do so had been given her. She had not seen Mr. Herriott since that afternoon in the old Greco-Roman theatre. Two kind, brief, merely friendly letters had reached her, followed by a box containing for herself some fine Oriental embroideries, and an exquisitely carved ivory triptych; for Mrs. Mitchell a copy of a quaint circular picture in the old Byzantine style, representing a group of young lambs asleep around the standing figure of the child Jesus, whose body rayed light, as in the "Notte," one little hand extended over them, while he looked up to an angelic guard only dimly outlined by the gleaming tips of hovering pinions.

If Mr. Herriott never returned? Her eyes filled with unshed tears. For so many years he had been her devoted and loyal friend, and she honored and trusted him supremely. Never to see him again would grieve her deeply, but she felt assured he no longer loved her as formerly—that sincere friendship was the only sentiment he now entertained. Were his heart still hers, could he have maintained the total repression that marked recent years? He had given his word not to refer to a matter that distressed her, but when men really loved, such compacts were forgotten, and it must have been easy for Mr. Herriott to keep his promise of absolute silence.

Gathering up her flowers, letters and parasol, she walked slowly across the lawn and reached the house by a side door, without meeting any of the servants.

On the library table lay Judge Kent's unopened mail; hence she knew he had not yet returned from the fishing trip on which he started at daylight. Over the door opening into his adjoining bedroom a heavy portiÈre of crimson plush usually hung, but a few days previous winter draperies had been replaced by Madras curtains that resembled stained glass. Lifting this summer portiÈre, Eglah went into the bedroom, filled a vase with water and arranged the drooping violets on her father's bureau. Only during his absence did she ever come into this apartment, so long her grandmother's reliquary, where the girl seemed always to see old Hector crouching against his dead mistress, and that white face, whose fixed blue eyes pierced beyond the orange dawn and fronted God.

The memory of her childish terror on the night of Mrs. Maurice's death haunted the room, despite her effort to dispel it, yet to-day she sat down on a lounge and re-read Mrs. St. Clair's letter. If her father knew of the contemplated Arctic journey, he had given no hint. Perhaps the vessel had already sailed. Then at last she could find peace and reconciliation. Possibly Mr. Herriott might change his plans. If ever he renewed his offer would she—could she yield to her father's wishes? She set her teeth.

"Sell myself—even for father's love? Never!"

It seemed cruel that some misfortune to her best and dearest friend should offer her sole channel of escape, and after a while she made deliberate choice.

"Come what may, I pray no harm will overtake Mr. Noel. I would rather continue to fight and suffer than know he was lost; and surely God will watch over him."

Some moments passed while, forgetting to remove her hat, she sat tapping her knee with the letter. Then heavy footsteps rang on the bare, "dry-rubbed" floor, and Judge Kent's voice sounded through the library.

"Take that arm chair, Herriott. Eglah is in town, but she will be at home soon."

"I am glad to have an opportunity to talk to you in her absence. I have not come here voluntarily; necessity drove me. My mission now is so distressingly painful that could it have been avoided I should certainly not be here. To shield Eglah from annoyance I would undertake anything but neglect of duty. Of course you know the deplorable matter to which I allude?"

Every word came distinctly through the lace-hung doorway, and Eglah rose, reluctant to overhear that which it was evident the speaker wished withheld from her; but an overmastering desire to understand once for all conditions that had so long perplexed her, coerced her to remain. There was grave trouble, and she must suffer later—why not now? A full comprehension was the first step toward defence.

"I am surprised that you should intentionally embarrass me, but I suppose you refer to the United States and railroad bonds that were hypothecated. I knew you had redeemed them, delivered them to the college, and I hoped when I parted with the house in Thirty-eighth Street that I could turn it over to you in part payment of that bond business; but an unfortunate venture reduced me to such urgent need, I was obliged to take the money you offered through Trainem. Don't interrupt me—now you have forced me to speak, I want no renewal of this matter. Except the trustees and their attorneys, no one remembers the unjust clause in your father's will that Nina should have the New York house and certain stocks outright, but only the interest on those bonds which at her death should belong to the Presbyterian College. Munificent provision for the widow of a reputed multimillionaire! Since you have so kindly and generously recovered the bonds and delivered them to the trustees, I see no necessity for this revival of so disagreeable a subject, and certainly no propriety in dragging before Eglah what does not concern her. The trusteeship under which her own estate is held at present, prevents my using any part of it to repay you, as I would do most gladly, were it possible."

"Had you not forbidden an interruption, you might have spared yourself an unpleasant retrospection, as I earnestly desired to assure you at the outset that you are entirely mistaken in my purpose. I had no thought—no intention, of alluding to the subject of the bonds, which is even more disagreeable to me than to you, but since you have brought it up, while I decline to discuss my father's will, you must permit me to say that the course I pursued was prompted solely by my affection for Nina, and a desire to protect her innocent name. Hence as regards the bonds you owe me nothing."

"Do you doubt they were hypothecated with her consent and desire?"

"Judge Kent, you must pardon me if I ask you to dismiss issues long past. I am here for a far graver and more imperatively pressing matter. It seems hard indeed that I, who have accepted and enjoyed your hospitality—I, who for many years have known that my heart dwelt upon your roof—should be the unfortunate agent forced to bring grief and trouble to your hearth. I suppose you suspect to what I refer?"

"No. I have so many enemies, and such an infernal succession of bad luck, I never know where a bomb may burst. I haven't an idea what you are driving at."

Mr. Herriott walked twice across the floor.

"Do you recollect Edward Hunt?"

"Yes. A cross between a fox and a blood-hound. He was a cousin of yours. I gave hearty thanks when I heard he was dead."

"Allow me to correct you; he married a cousin of my mother's. Of course you recall his connection with the syndicate that secured congressional grant of lands in the West, which subsequently proved so valuable. You were a member of the Senate committee that reported favorably, and doubtless you recollect all that passed between you and Hunt at that time."

"Good God! When the grave closed over him, I thought that syndicate business was screwed down in his coffin."

"Judge Kent, I would give my right arm if it could be shut in there. Do you recall a time in Washington, the night of Secretary D——'s dinner, from which I carried Eglah to a cotillon? Early in the evening you received an anonymous warning that the personality of 'Ely Twiggs' had been discovered. Accidentally the truth came into my possession. I sent it, that you might prepare any defence you deemed advisable—and I was unwilling you should suspect I knew the facts. The cashier of that western Pentland Bank was Duncan Keith, whom I knew when I was a boy, and when the bank failed, he and the bookkeeper disappeared, after destroying the books; at least the president and teller so stated at the examination held by directors and stockholders. Edward Hunt was a director, and defended Keith. He always contended that the president and teller had conspired to throw the guilt on an innocent man. Leaving his son with the boy's grandmother in Ohio, Keith fled, and was reported somewhere in South America. One night in Geneva, where I went to attend a scientific congress, a blurred sheet was brought to me at the hotel.

"'Your old friend Duncan Keith is dying. I am an innocent victim. Come and take my message to my boy in Ohio.'

"The shoemaker who brought the note piloted me to his shop, where in an attic room I found poor Keith. He was sinking fast, but begged me to do him the only favor this world held. He insisted I should watch over his son, whose grandmother had recently died, and the boy had now no relations but an aunt, a sister of Keith's wife. With his last sobbing breath he swore to me he was innocent. He declared the charge of embezzlement was untrue; that his individual account was short only eight hundred dollars, overdrawn with the knowledge and consent of president and teller, who denied their sanction when the crash came, and charged him with theft and forgeries he had never committed. As security for the money borrowed, he had given a mortgage on a small piece of land, but to avoid mortgage tax it had not been recorded, and could not be found. Fear of prosecution and inability to establish his innocence against the united persecution of bank officials had driven him from the country. Part of the records he preserved and carried away, but he needed an important link, the stubs of a certain check book, and some bank drafts returned from London. His health failed fast, and confined to his room, he had abandoned all hope, when one day he received a package addressed in Edward Hunt's handwriting. It contained not only the stubs, but checks and two receipts establishing beyond doubt the guilt of the president, teller, and two other persons. Poor Keith! On his narrow bed he had a tin box under his elbow, and he laid the key on my knee.

"'Noel, I am honest as you are, and I want you to help my boy clear my name. All the proof is in this box. Will you keep it safe until Duncan is twenty-one, and then give it to him, and explain my enclosed letter of instructions? I tried to write my wishes to you, and that letter also is in the box. If I had not heard you were here, I should have asked our consul to send the box to you. Noel, will you help my son? I don't ask you to prosecute, or take any part; I only beg you to guard these proofs till he is of age. Will you promise me now, in God's sight, to keep these papers safe, and put them into no hand but Duncan's?'

"I took the box and put my hand on his, already cold and damp in death.

"'So help me God, I will guard the papers, and give them only into Duncan's own hand.'

"I sat with him until the end. Five hours later, at two o'clock, he died. Only God knows how bitterly and ceaselessly I have rued that rash promise now goading me to a step I would almost rather die than take. When I accepted the trust, I knew absolutely nothing of your connection with that bank, or of the transactions by which you came into possession of stock and shares in the land company and bank, all standing in the name of 'Ely Twiggs,' the dividends of which were always sent direct to London, and receipted for by 'Ely Twiggs's' agent, who reported him travelling in Egypt. 'Ely Twiggs,' as far as my information went, was associated solely with the syndicate's work in Congress. I made no examination of the proofs until very recently, because the appointed time had not arrived, and since I looked into that box I have not had one moment's peace. The array of evidence, strengthened by two of your own letters, rests the culpability on the president, the teller, Marsden and yourself. You must know how it pains me to lay this matter before you, but it is necessary you should understand the facts."

His voice wavered, and again he walked the length of the room.

A deep, quivering groan came from the depths of Judge Kent's chair, and leaning across the library table he poured out and swallowed a glass of brandy.

"The imminence of this misfortune is what appalls me. Duncan Keith will be twenty-one years old in less than a month, and as I sail so soon with the expedition, I am now on my way to place the box in his hands and explain his father's wishes. I may never come back, and I must execute my trust now, especially as the poor fellow is not in good health."

"My God! You can't mean to tell me you intend to arm him and my enemies with documents that will disgrace me?"

"Not if it were possible to avoid it without breaking my oath. I have pondered, I have passed sleepless nights trying to devise some method of shielding you; but unless I lie to a dead man who trusted me, I am compelled to deliver the box."

"Noel, for God's sake be reasonable! Don't sacrifice me to maudlin sentimentality. You pretend to love my innocent child, and yet pursue a course you know will break her heart, as well as mine?"

"Judge Kent, for her sake I would do anything—save dishonor myself."

"Then you have ceased to love her!"

"No; I love her, and I always shall, until she is some other man's wife. I gave her my whole heart when she was a mere child, and she is still the one woman in all the world who holds it in her dear little hands. To shield her from this terrible sorrow, I have thought you might go abroad at once, and keep American papers out of her reach for a while. Duncan will probably move promptly in exonerating his father's name; there will be, of course, a nine days' sensation, then matters will settle; a later stratum of news will press it out of sight, and Eglah need never know."

"Could not the boy be influenced to sell the papers and drop it?"

"Certainly not by me. Do you think it possible I could insult the dead by helping to undo what I swore to aid his son in accomplishing?"

"But you swore in ignorance of facts learned since."

"No, only in ignorance of the personality of some who contributed to Keith's ruin. I am the most unhappy poor devil on earth, but no honorable alternative is allowed me, and to-night I go on to Duncan and deliver the box. I must meet the vessel which touches at Sydney, Cape Breton, on the 15th, and I have no time to spare. I shall come back this afternoon to see Eglah and say good-bye, and I can only hope that after calm consideration of all the circumstances embarrassing me, you will not censure me for a deplorable course of action which my sense of honor makes absolutely imperative."

Judge Kent sat facing the Madras drapery towards which Mr. Herriott's back was turned, and at this moment a glass door leading to the colonnade opened; the draught of air blew the curtain into the library, and the Judge saw his daughter slip quickly from his bedroom. With a vague hope of gaining time, he said unsteadily:

"I am so stunned, I am not myself. That you should sweep me and mine to destruction seems incredible; but, nevertheless, will you stay and dine?"

"No, thank you, Judge Kent. It would be painful for both of us. Later, I must see Eglah once more."

In crucial hours, when some crisis wrecks plans, landmarks, life-long aims, the brain works with preternatural clearness and celerity. Through the torturing ordeal of that half hour Eglah had listened, numb with shame and horror. The world seemed to have dissolved in a night that could know no dawn; yet, groping in this chaos, two desperate resolves nerved her.

She would secure that box of papers, no matter at what cost. Her father should be saved from disgrace, and he should never suspect she knew his guilt. She must see Mr. Herriott before she saw her father. Swiftly she matured her resolution; then an unusual glitter came into her lovely soft eyes, and she sat down between the chestnut trees and waited.

At a quick stride, Mr. Herriott descended the avenue until nearly opposite the seat, and she rose and walked toward him.

Their hands met in a tight, clinging clasp, but for an instant neither spoke. He noted that the blood had ebbed from her lips, and that she was frightfully pale, but the eyes lifted to his glowed unnaturally.

"I intended coming back later, to spend an hour with you and say good-bye, as——"

"Never to say good-bye again! You shall not leave me."

She drew him down to the seat beside her, and he smiled at the imperious tone, so suggestive of her childish days.

"You do not understand conditions, unless—When did you see your father?"

"Not since last night. He went fishing at daylight."

"Then you do not know that I came to bid you farewell before sailing for the Arctic circle?"

"Yes. I have not seen father to-day, but this letter from Mrs. St. Clair arrived by the morning mail. Mr. Herriott, I am the most miserable woman God ever made, and I want to turn to you now, but I scarcely know just how to do so. Once—that night in Washington—you said you would never change, that you would always love me; but I have no right to expect after years of absence—" She paused and the frozen face crimsoned.

He caught his breath and leaned toward her.

"I love you now as I loved you then. My heart has always belonged to you. If you doubt it, you wrong me."

"Then, Mr. Noel, do not leave me. If you go away now you will break my heart."

He rose and looked down at her, wondering at the desperate appeal in her eyes.

"I do not understand, because I long ago ceased to hope I could ever be essential to your happiness. I am obliged to leave here to-night; but if there is any service I can render before I sail from Sydney, on the 15th, I am sure you know how very gladly I should help you. If, as you say, you wish to turn to me, I beg that you will do so at once. Why are you miserable?"

She covered her face with her hands.

"If you love me, will you abandon this expedition for my sake?"

"I cannot now, it is too late. My word is pledged by cable, and the vessel is on the Atlantic. Eglah, I dare not hope that you have learned to care; I will not delude myself. Don't torture me by vague suggestions that half madden me."

He sat down beside her, painfully perplexed.

Her hands fell into her lap, clutched each other, and when she spoke it was in a shuddering, broken whisper.

"Then, if you must go, take me with you till you sail. We can be married to-night."

For fully a moment his eyes, amazed, incredulous, searched hers; then he surrendered himself to a measureless exultation.

"My darling—my own proud darling!"

He drew her close, and she felt him tremble as she hid her face against his shoulder—felt his lips on her neck, on her bare, quivering hand that he held pressed to his cheek.

"I know it is selfish to permit you to bind yourself to me on the eve of a perilous journey from which I may not return, but after so many long, hopeless years the temptation is more than I can resist. I can have you, my darling, for only a few short days, but the happiness of a lifetime shall glorify them. To-night I must go to Ohio, to close up some business with my ward, Duncan Keith; then on to Greyledge for two days before starting for Cape Breton. Why did you not give me this precious intimation earlier? You have always known what you are to me. Was it the news in Mrs. St. Clair's letter regarding my departure that pleaded for me in your proud, stubborn heart?"

"I never realized until to-day how much I need you. Mr. Noel, this has come upon me so suddenly I am stunned. Give me a little time—till my mind clears. Let us see father at once; there are so many things to be arranged if—if——"

He bent to kiss her, but with one shaking hand she softly turned his face aside.

"Not yet, please—while I am Eglah Kent."

Her arms stole up around his neck and her strained voice broke.

"I am so unhappy; I seem to be in a horrible, strangling dream. Be patient with me. You are the only one in all the world who can comfort me, and I am looking to you now as—I once looked to God."

Holding her in a close clasp, he felt her quivering from head to foot.

"Sweetheart, don't tremble so. Trust me, darling, and love me, and no home in the wide universe will be so happy and blessed as ours. Ours! The word holds heaven. Are you cold, that you shiver so constantly? Come into the sunshine."

Pacing up and down the colonnade, Judge Kent watched them approaching. He looked worn, hunted, and a sickly pallor marked his usually florid face. Before Mr. Herriott could speak, he was startled by a strange hysterical sound from Eglah; not a cry, not a sob. As she looked at her father, her face lighted with a marvellous, yearning tenderness, and she sprang into his extended arms.

"Father, you will love me now! Kiss me, kiss me. Hold me tight—take me back to my place in your heart."

Only he could hear the low ripple of broken words, and his tears dripped on her face as he pressed his lips to hers.

"Herriott, what does it all mean?"

"That I am the happiest, proudest man on earth. Coming here to say good-bye to my sweetheart, I shall carry my wife away with me."

"But she cannot go to the North Pole, and—you may not survive the dangers."

"When I know she is waiting at home for me, do you suppose all the ice in Greenland could shut me away from her?"

"God bless my daughter! How shall I live without her?"

"We are never to be separated. Mr. Herriott could not wish anything so cruel."

She rose on tiptoe, put a hand on each wet cheek, and kissed her father twice.

Mr. Herriott looked at his watch.

"Eglah has consented to be married to-night, and my train leaves at eleven. There are several important matters to be arranged, and I should be glad to know her wishes."

She rang the bell, then stepped to his side and slipped her hand in his.

"Father's rector is absent, and I wish Bishop Vivian to perform the ceremony; he loved my grandmother, and she loved him."

Aaron appeared at the door.

"Tell Oliver to bring the trap around as soon as he can. Father, you must go in with Mr. Herriott. Mrs. Whitfield is sick, but I want Mr. Whitfield and Lucy and Dr. Eggleston and his wife to be here. If you wish any others, invite them. Mr. Noel, what hour?"

"I suggest not later than nine."

"My dear Ma-Lila will never forgive me. She is away."

"Where? Could not a telegram reach her?"

"No, she is in the country, two miles from a station. She left me only this morning, and will be so grieved."

"How far away?"

"Fifteen miles by carriage road, twenty by rail. There is the trap. Father, I am going upstairs now; and, if you please, I want to be alone till—till—till—" One hand clutched her throat, and she looked appealingly into Mr. Herriott's eyes.

He smiled, stooped, and pressed to his lips the slender fingers he held.

"Set your mind at rest about Mrs. Mitchell. She shall be here, if I have to send a special for her."

When explanation and instructions had been given to Aaron and Minerva, Eglah went upstairs and locked herself in the room to which had been removed the furniture and portraits Mrs. Maurice held sacred. Up and down she walked, feeling that an iron band was throttling her. She and her father were drifting out to a black gulf of humiliation—of hopeless disgrace—and only that box of papers could rescue, anchor them in safety. Mr. Herriott loved her so devotedly, she believed that when she was his wife he would yield the papers in answer to her prayers. If he refused? She recalled the ring of indignation in his voice when her father suggested bribing Duncan Keith. Marriage would give her immediate control of her estate, and surely her fortune could purchase the papers from the boy, when in her presence Mr. Herriott delivered them to him. If all efforts failed, she would go down to ruin knowing she had left nothing undone to save her father, and now, at last, she had regained her place in his heart.

The price? Her face burned, and she wrung her hands. After to-night's ceremony, could she ever again respect herself? When Mr. Herriott knew, would he despise her? Family portraits on the wall caught her glance. Did the stainless Maurices, and her own young mother, watching from the Celestial City, see all the burden of shame settling down on her shoulders? Would her grandmother's cold, proud blue eyes look "I told you so," or soften in tender pity for "poor Marcia's baby"? Public disgrace over which so many would gloat, to escape such infamy was any price too dear? The price—herself?

Three hours later she saw her trunk carried downstairs. When the clock struck eight, she was dressed for her wedding. The gown ordered for the club german was a trailing, ivory crÊpe de Chine, and where lace ruffles met on the corsage she fastened a spray of white lilac from the bouquet Mr. Herriott had sent. No gleam of jewels marred the white perfection of face and figure, but her dilated eyes burned like brown agates when the light smites them. On the dressing-table lay a note for Mrs. Mitchell.

"My dear, sweet little mother: The crucial hour came, and you were away. I may have scuttled ship, but I did what seemed best. Some things you cannot understand now, but I know you love me too well to distress me with questions—when I ask you to trust me. Pray for your

"Baby."

As the clock struck half-past eight, Eliza ran up the steps and into the room, holding against her shoulder a branch of titi pearled with bloom. At sight of the extraordinary loveliness of the figure standing as if frozen, she burst into tears.

"My beautiful—my baby! What does all this mean? Your father has forced you to——"

"Hush, hush. My father was as much astonished as you are. I feared you could not come in time, and here is a note, in which I said all that I can tell you. Don't scold me, and don't cry; wait till I am gone."

She gave her the note and kissed her cheek, where tears were streaming.

"Oh, my baby, give me the positive assurance that this step is voluntary—that you love Mr. Herriott."

"Entirely voluntary. My supreme wish is to go with Mr. Herriott. He is the noblest man in all the world."

"Yes, but you have not just found that out; you have always known it. Now, do you love him? I am afraid you do not; and, my baby, marriage without loving a husband is——"

Eglah laid a hand over Eliza's lips.

"Father is coming for me. I want to wear some titi, because you brought it to me. Pin two clusters under the folds of lace here, just over your baby's heart. Now, kiss Eglah Kent good-bye, and leave me with father while you take off your hat and dry your eyes."

"My dear, are you ready?"

"Wait a few minutes for Ma-Lila. Father, if I can not persuade Mr. Noel to abandon his journey, you must be sure to meet me when he telegraphs you and leaves me. I am inexpressibly unhappy, but if you will forget the last three years, and love me as in the dear old days, it will comfort and gladden me."

The clock chimed nine. Near the foot of the stairway Mr. Herriott waited, and when he came forward the almost unearthly beauty of Eglah's face made his heart throb with vague apprehension. It wore a rapt expression of supreme exaltation, as if a somnambulist walked with eyes fixed on some goal beyond a yawning black chasm.

Drawing her arm from her father's, she stepped to Mr. Herriott's side and laid her hand in his.