He wanted to say more, but Dr. Mal-bone checked him and gave him something to strengthen him. He took it, shaking his head and smiling sadly. Presently, as his eyes grew brighter, Dr. Malbone said,-- “You may speak now, Adrian, if you wish.” The young woman had knelt, and, taking the sufferer’s hand in both of hers, bowed her head over it as she pressed it to her lips. “Look at me,” he said to her. She raised her head, and they looked long and silently at each other. He seemed troubled and anxious. “My poor friend,” he said, “you have not yet learned. Dr. Malbone--a letter--my pocket.” “I have read the letter, my friend,” she hastened to say. “I know all about my father, and I know how thoughtful and kind you were not to tell me.” “Then you forgive me?” he begged. “Forgive you, my friend? Yes, a thousand times; but how can you forgive----” She buried her face in his pillow; her arm stole round him, and she drew him against her breast. “I did that long ago,” he replied. “My noble, generous friend!” she said. “But can you understand what you have been to me, what you have done for me, what you are to me? Can you believe that you have made a true woman of me? Am I still the she-wolf, my friend?” A supreme agony moved her in this appeal. He feebly tried to check her with his hand, but she nestled her cheek close against his and pleaded,-- “Do you understand that you have made me worthy of every kind regard that so noble a man could have for a woman? Can you believe, friend of my life, that you have made me such a woman as would be perfect in your eyes?” He made no reply, and, still holding him in her arms, she raised her head to look into his face. He was regarding her with a strange and distant wistfulness, and there shone in his eyes a pale, far light that stretched through infinite space. A faint smile played upon his lips, the feeble pressure of his hand closed upon hers. “You will not leave me, will you?” she pleaded. “You will come back to health, my friend. You will teach me, you will guide me. The world will be bright and beautiful, for all our suffering has been borne. We belong each to the other, my friend, in friendship, trust, and sympathy.” Still he smiled as he looked into her face; and as he smiled, and she saw the strange, far light that shone from so inconceivable a distance in the awful depths of his eyes, her eager heart found a bridge of glass spanning the gulf between them. Then he sighed deeply, and his eyes rolled upward. She sprang from the bed to her feet. “Dr. Malbone!” she cried, in a suppressed voice, “quick! he has fainted!” The physician, who had stepped a little way apart, came forward and looked down into the still face of his friend. Then he glanced up at the young woman, who was trembling with eager impatience. “There is nothing to do,” sadly replied Dr. Malbone; then he passed round the bed, took the young woman gently by the arm, and, in a kind voice, said, “Come with me.”