IN ANGER.

The surgeon had pronounced that life still lingered, although he believed the wound to be a fatal one. But he added that to remove the young man to Rosemont, two miles away, would destroy the last lingering spark of life. He must be carried on a stretcher to the nearest house, then medical skill would do all that was possible.

While he talked he had extracted the bullet from Earle's breast and stanched the flow of blood. He looked up and saw a stranger by his side, a dark, elegant-looking man past middle age.

"Doctor Holdsworth, I am Bruce Conway, an old friend of the Winans family. My home is less than half a mile away, and almost the nearest to this spot. He can be taken there if you please," he said.

"Very well," the surgeon answered briefly, and accordingly Earle was carried gently to the cottage and installed in Bruce Conway's own room. Ladybird was still asleep, or she would have gone wild with the horror of seeing Earle carried into the house on a stretcher, and apparently dead.

She slept on through all the subdued noise and bustle, for she had been wakeful last night and sobbed herself to sleep at last, poor, willful child, so that when she awoke the sun rode high in the heavens, and Aunt Prue was tiptoeing about with a very important air.

She came to the bed, took Ladybird's little hands in hers and said, seriously and anxiously:

"Ladybird, I have bad news for thee, but thee must not scream out; thee must bear it very bravely and gently. A man lies wounded in thy father's chamber, and his life hangs on the slenderest thread. There was a duel at sunrise this morning between two of thy lovers, Jack Tennant and Earle Winans. One fired into the air, the other at his enemy's breast; one fled, the other your father brought here."

"Earle!" moaned the girl's white lips, and the brown eyes shut heavily, while the rose-tint fled the dimpled cheek. Aunt Prue thought she had fainted, but presently the girlish bosom began to heave beneath its soft white robe, and Ladybird sobbed:

"My heart is broken!"

"Dear, tell me, did thee have aught to do with this sad affair? Was it thy fault?"

"Oh, I don't know. I can't tell. Don't ask me anything, Auntie Prue. Let me lie here and die of remorse as I deserve!" sobbed Ladybird hysterically, for she knew nothing of the cause of the duel and feared that her own coquetry was at the bottom of it all.

No coaxing could prevail on her to rise, so presently Aunt Prue had to leave her there sobbing forlornly on her pillow.

"Perhaps her father can comfort her," thought the distressed old lady, and went in search of him.

But Bruce Conway had already gone on a mission of comfort.

Lord Chester asked him to carry the sad news up to Rosemont.

Conway performed his task as gently as he could, but Precious of course was greatly shocked.

When Conway saw her growing a little calmed under his entreaties he took leave and returned to the cottage, praying silently as he went that he might not find Earle dead as the physician foreboded.

He wished, too, to meet the Winans party when they arrived. A delicate plan had been maturing in his mind.

Earle was too low to be removed to Rosemont, and of course his relatives would be anxious to remain with him. Bruce Conway decided to give up the cottage to them and remove his own small family to a hotel.

But Senator Winans quickly vetoed the latter plan.

"We are grateful for your kind thoughtfulness, and will gladly accept your offer, but in return you must accept the hospitality of Rosemont for yourself and family," he said, and Conway knew that he was in grave earnest.

He did not refuse, for he saw that acceptance would be most proper and grateful.

Aunt Prue said that she would remain and help to nurse the invalid. There was plenty of room for Senator Winans, his wife and herself, with their servants. Miss Winans and Lord Chester could go with Bruce and Ladybird up to the great house.

Ethel was given only one glance at Earle's pallid, sleeping face, then they hurried her away with Lord Chester to Rosemont, Mr. Conway to follow later with his daughter. Mrs. Winans sent by Ethel a message for Norah to bring Precious to the cottage, then she turned her pale, grave face on her old friend.

"Lulu left a daughter, and you did not let me know. Was that kind?" she asked, gently reproachful.

He flushed and stammered:

"Mrs. Winans, forgive me. You were abroad when Lulu died and I did not have your exact address. I was very unhappy over the loss of my wife and I neglected my duty. I took the child to my good relative, Aunt Prue, and since then my life has been a restless one. My daughter has spent almost her whole life at boarding-school until now, when we hope to settle quietly here. I hope you will give Ladybird a little of the love you gave her gentle mother."

His voice trembled, and her tender eyes were dim with tears. She could not speak. But the surgeon had debarred her from Earle's side for awhile, and presently she went to seek Ladybird in her room.

Meanwhile Lord Chester and his betrothed, in the Rosemont carriage, followed by Hetty Wilkins in the wagon with the trunks, were en route for the great house.

Lord Chester had been amazed at the cold hauteur of Ethel when she met him at the station.

She had merely inclined her graceful dark head to him without a word, and kept her slender hand hanging down by her side.

In the carriage she preserved the same distant demeanor. Her pale face and proud eyes were turned away from him toward the window.

Lord Chester regarded her in surprise for several moments, then asked gently:

"Have I in any way offended you, dear Ethel?"

Then she turned her eyes on his face. They were angry and accusing, and her voice trembled with anger as she cried:

"Why did you leave Washington without informing me? Surely it was my right to know!"

"Surely, Ethel, but I hope that no blame can attach to me for not seeing you first, as a telegram summoned me in haste to your brother, and in order to catch the first train here I had to leave without sending you a line. But I wrote you yesterday, and had you not left Washington so soon this morning you would have received it ere this. I trust this explanation will acquit me in your eyes of all dereliction from duty."

His voice was cold, almost contemptuous, and his resentment of anger only stung the haughty beauty to further insolence.

"Your duty to me ranked before your courtesy to Earle," she replied perversely.

"When may I hope you will forgive me this time if I promise to wear my chains more slavishly in future?" he asked, with delicate sarcasm that stung deeply.

"You call your betrothal to me a chain! Perhaps you would like to be free of your fetters!" flashed the girl.