"In the midst of life is death."

It was a warm, sultry day in early April. The Hastings family were just settled in their summer home in Allendale. Venna had been "to town" all the morning on a shopping expedition, and had returned home somewhat fatigued by the warmth of the early spring. She had lunched and was resting alone in her room. She sat by her open window with her book in her lap, unheeded. Her head resting back upon the cushions, she dreamily watched the robins busying themselves with nest building in the tree outside.

"Poor little birds!" she mused. "You're working so hard for your little home and the first storm may blow it down!"

The robins continued to chirp happily.

"You'll be happy anyway while it lasts," she thought, "and if your nest falls, you'll build another—just as we all do!"

Venna certainly was in a dreamy mood. Her mind wandered over the entire winter's doings, since her debut.

Her debut! How well she remembered the keen enjoyment of it! But the months following! Had she found them all satisfying? She had to admit that she had not. One whirl of gayety had been hers. She had been the acknowledged belle of the season. Among her many admirers, Mr. Hadly pushed himself always to the front and assumed "the right of way" with such firmness that her friends took it for granted that it would culminate in a brilliant match. Venna did not repulse, neither did she encourage, him. She was so busy having "a good time" that she let admiration take its course and if the other men were so easily pushed aside, Venna did not care. She liked Hadly's masterful way of doing things. If he invited her anywhere, it was always in a manner which said, "You'll be sorry if you don't go." And she had to admit that his invitations resulted in the most pleasurable times of the winter.

"Am I in love with him?" she asked herself today, as she had many times before.

"No, decidedly not!" was her answer, which always pleased herself, for Venna didn't want to be in love yet, and be married like all the other girls who had gone out ahead of her. She wanted "to do something" first. Just what she meant to "do" she hadn't decided, but the married girls she knew led such monotonous lives—society, society and always the same dressing, entertaining and being entertained.

It was plain Venna's one year in the social world was enough. Yes, she had tired of it already. She was going to talk to Daddy about it. Next year, she would like to play at real public concerts—not just social functions—and really earn money. But why earn money? Daddy had an endless supply on hand for her always.

Well, maybe she could do settlement work. She had a friend who was immensely interested in it. She had met her only lately and the girl said she was never so happy as when working among the poor.

"I believe that's what I'll do," she exclaimed, and her eyes lost their dreaminess and shone brightly.

There was a sudden chirping of the robins and Venna looked out.

The clouds had gathered and a strong wind was blowing. The tree swayed to and fro. The little half finished nest fell from its bough, down, down, until it was lost to view.

"Poor little birds!" thought Venna, as she watched them fly away, chirping excitedly.

Suddenly a great depression stole over her and she began to cry softly.

"What is the matter with me?" she exclaimed, wiping away her tears with determination. "Why should I have this sudden sadness? I must not give way to it."

She arose and closed her window, for the rain was coming down quite heavily. It grew suddenly dark. Venna pulled down her shades, put the lights on, and started to dress.

"I must get busy and shake off this uncalled for mood before Daddy comes home. He may take an early train and will be coming home tired from the hot city. There's the car now!"

But it was not her father. The maid announced "Mr. Hadly," as she handed Venna a long box.

"Please open it, Stella. I'll be ready to wear one, I guess."

The maid opened up the gift of American Beauties—Venna's favorites—and handed one long stemmed rose to her mistress.

"Put the rest in water, Stella—I shall wear only one," she said, pinning the wonderful rose at her waist. "And when you go to your party to-night, just come in and take one for yourself," she added kindly.

"Oh, thank you, miss," exclaimed the maid, as she helped Venna with her dress. "You do just look wonderful today, Miss Venna. Your cheeks are as red as the rose itself."

Venna was always so familiar with her servants and they were frankly adoring.

"Thank you, my dear Stella," she said. "Your compliments have a sameness, but I always know they are sincere," she said, as she left the room to go to her guest.

Hadly awaited Venna in the large reception room facing the front porch. He looked about the cozy room all in oak and cool green, and then at the centre table with vases of violets and apple-blossoms.

He smiled as he looked at the flowers. He had a bright vision of Venna gathering them and placing them there.

Venna entered the room with her usual bright smile.

"You arrived just in time, Mr. Hadly. We are in for a storm, I guess. How dark it is!"

A sudden flash of lightning and clap of thunder made them both start.

Venna hastily put on the lights with a slight shiver.

"Let us pull down the shades, too," she said. "It doesn't seem so bad then."

"Are you afraid of a thunder-storm. Miss Hastings?" he asked as he shut out the storm.

"Not ordinarily," she returned, suddenly paling as another streak of lightning penetrated the room, followed by thunder that shook the house.

Hadly crossed to her side, and taking her arm gently, led her to a chair.

"You really look pale. Tell me, there is something more than the storm that has frightened you. What is it?"

"I don't know," returned Venna, sitting down. "I was watching the robins outside my window when I was possessed with an indescribable sadness. It passed off and now comes this fear. I don't understand it. I never fear a storm."

He stood beside her chair, towering handsomely by her side. He looked down into her face so full of questioning fear. Surely now was his time.

"Miss Hastings—Venna—may I call you Venna? because you have never feared a storm in the past is not to say you never will. Won't you give me the privilege of sheltering you from all the storms of the future? Venna, I love you. Not with the half love of a youth, but with the strong love of a matured manhood that knows the world and can therefore appreciate a girl like you the more."

He leaned over her but did not touch her. His eyes seemed to burn their passion into her very soul and for a moment held her spell-bound.

She might have expected this, yet she had drifted on. Now she was suddenly confronted with the passionate love of a man who was in dead earnest and evidently expected a return. Feeling the embarrassment of refusing him, she dropped her eyes in confusion.

He took her hand and pressed it hard.

"You will then be my wife, Venna?"

The same masterful way he expected her to accept him. What could she say?

"You do love me?" he again insisted.

She finally gained courage and raised her eyes to meet his with frank regret.

"Mr. Hadly, I wish that I could love a man like you, for I know your love is one for any girl to be proud of. I know you are sincere in caring for me. But I don't think it is in me to love any man—not yet, I am sure."

His eyes darkened with disappointment.

"Then I have been deceived all this time—thinking you surely loved me as you have accepted my attentions unreservedly."

Venna blushed with conscious shame.

"I had no reason to believe you"—there she stopped short. She was not yet accustomed to handle proposals. She felt a quick self-blame. She had enjoyed herself at this man's expense.

He read her thoughts.

"There, Venna, I do not blame you. You are very young. I must not expect too much love at first. Just say that you will marry me!"

"Without loving you?" she asked in sudden wonder.

"Why not?" he asked, smiling into her eyes. "Once we are married, I will teach you to love."

He leaned so near to her now that his breath was upon her cheek. She felt he was about to kiss her. She withdrew from him with a sudden repulsion.

"Don't!" she said, imploringly. "I never could love you—nor any other man," she added, childishly, finding words to make the hurt seem less.

At this moment Stella appeared at the door.

"Telegram, Miss," she said. "An immediate answer wanted."

Hadly covered Venna's confusion by walking over to Stella, taking the telegram and handing it to Venna, who mechanically took it.

"Thank you, Stella. I will call you when I have the answer ready."

The maid quietly withdrew.

Hastily Venna opened the telegram.

As she read, her face paled and the telegram dropped from her trembling hands. Rigid she sat gazing before her with fixed stare.

"Venna! What is it? Tell me!" insisted Hadly.

She did not answer him, but the look of sudden anguish on the girl's face made him take up the telegram and read.

"John Hastings met with serious accident at 2:30 today. Now at the M— Hospital. Come at once. Cannot live many hours."

A sudden look of relief crept into his handsome face, but it was instantly replaced by one of compassion for the girl before him.

"You poor girl," he said, kneeling beside her and, placing both arms around her inert form, he drew her gently to him.

In her stormy grief, Venna's power of resistance was gone. She knew she was suffering keenly; but without definitely realizing the cause. But Hadly's caresses soon brought her to her full senses, and she withdrew from his arms in great anxiety.

"Your car is here. Can you take me to the train immediately?"

"I will take you to New York, right to the hospital, dear," was his ready answer.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed excitedly. "But, auntie—how can we tell her?"

"Is she home?"

"No, she went out this morning for a long ride with the Jetsons. They are probably caught in the storm somewhere. It will be impossible to find her. We must not lose the next train," she exclaimed, glancing hurriedly at her watch which pointed to 3:30.

"When do you expect her home?"

"Maybe not until six o'clock dinner. Oh, we must hurry!"

"Yes, by that time we can be in New York. Get your things quickly. Your aunt must follow. Ring for Stella. I will explain to her while you get ready."

Venna found her excitement giving way to a great calm. As oil thrown upon an angry sea stills the turbulent waters, so a great unseen influence pervaded the girl's being and quieted the tempest of her mind. She could not understand it, but was thankful.

Her great pallor startled the maid as they met at the door.

"Stella, Mr. Hadly will explain. I am hurrying to catch the next train to New York."

With these words, she ran upstairs, entered her room, and quickly dressed for the city. Before leaving, she stood for a moment in front of her father's picture, smiling down upon her.

"O God, help me!" she exclaimed piteously, but her eyes were tearless.

She quickly rejoined Hadly and together they started in his closed limousine. The storm had somewhat abated, but it still rained hard, and lightning continually flashed in upon them.

Protectingly he put his arm around her. She did not withdraw. It seemed natural now. She needed someone, anyone, to accompany her in her grief.

"How kind he is!" she thought, vaguely realizing this hour of trial was drawing them closer together.

Venna never fully remembered what was said on that trip to New York. Her mind was full of longing to get to her father, and she answered Hadley's constant remarks in monosyllables, scarcely realizing what he said.

His whole attitude was one of protecting ownership. So they rushed on to the great city which was to hold her first awful sorrow.

Love for her father was the only affection she was capable of feeling now, but Hadly was asking nothing. He was giving all. She had a dim appreciation of his kindness, and thanked him several times. Each time he refused her thanks with an ardent declaration that his only object in life was to serve her always.

At last the awful journey was over. The train drew into the Grand Central and a taxi then took them hurriedly to the hospital.

Venna's calmness was even more pronounced as they approached the desk and asked for "John Hastings."

She scarcely breathed as the doctor took up the hospital phone.

Then the cold reply was brusquely given: "All right, you can go right up."

Silently they followed the orderly, Venna leading with a firm, light step.

As they entered the room where her father lay, Venna stood still and gazed with horror at what she saw. Was this her own beloved Daddy? There upon the couch lay a man with the pallor of death making more ghastly the two awful gashes on cheek and forehead.

The nurse attending held up a finger of silence and approached her kindly.

"Don't disturb him," she whispered. "He will doubtless awaken soon."

Approaching the bed noiselessly, Venna sat down upon the chair placed for her.

Hadly walked over to the window and looked out with a grim expression, avoiding too close a contact with death.

As spirit communes with spirit, so Venna's presence brought back the consciousness of her father. He opened his eyes slowly and fastened them upon her with unutterable joy.

"My darling girl, you have come!" he murmured, making a weak effort to lift his hand.

She leaned gently over him and kissed his white lips.

"Yes, Daddy, I'm here, dear. I'm here to stay with you until you go home," she said quietly but with a voice full of love.

His eyes saddened.

"Until—I go—home, dearie? That will be soon, very soon. Be sure you stay."

His eyes closed again in sudden weakness.

Venna stared at him in horror.

"Daddy, daddy, you don't mean—Oh! speak to me. Daddy!" she cried piteously.

His eyes opened once more and smiled upon her, full of loving concern.

"Venna child, be brave," he whispered. "I'm going home-to your dear mother. Be brave. Be—good, Petty. Always—be—good, for—Daddy's sake. See Venna! There is your mother now. Look! She comes! O beautiful wife!"

He said no more. His eyes, lit with a holy joy, looked beyond Venna.

Suddenly he raised both arms outstretched in welcome. Then they fell. His eyes dimmed.

"Daddy!" cried Venna in anguish.

But there was no answer. Venna was alone.