"And she's alive--doing well," cried Tom, "at your house; old Benson, you're--a--a--trump. If I hadn't given away every gold piece I had in my pocket, you should have a double handful--by Jove, you should! But never mind, just come along, I must have one splendid hug, and then for the Cove. No, no, that won't be fair after all," thought the generous fellow, "Grant must have the first kiss, he must tell her----" The thought of what must be told her went through the poor fellow's brain like an arrow of fire. But he dashed into the path which led to Piney Cove, calling back to Benson, "Don't tell her anything!" and strode away. Breathless, eager, forgetful of his own great sorrow, Tom cleared the distance between the shore and Piney Cove with enormous strides. He crossed the lawn almost at a run, leaped up the steps two at a time, and found Mellen lying upon a sofa in the balcony, with his face to the wall. "Get up, old fellow, get up and shake yourself," he cried, seizing upon Mellen and turning him over as if he had been a Newfoundland dog in the wrong place; "I've found her--by Jove, I have!--she's at old Benson's. Isn't he a brick? She's well--no, she isn't quite that according to the latest accounts, but by all that's sacred, your wife is alive!" Mellen started to his feet, bewildered, wild. "Tom Fuller, is this true?" "Do I look like a man who tells lies for fun?" said Tom, drawing himself up. "Have you seen her--is my wife truly alive?" "Yes--no--no--I haven't seen her--was in too great a hurry for that. But she's there at Benson's tavern, just as sure--as sure--as a gun." Mellen brushed past the kind fellow while he was hesitating for a comparison. His saddle horse stood at the door--for he had been too excited for any orders regarding it. He sprang upon its back and dashed across the lawn, through the grove and out of sight, quickly as a fast horse could clear the ground. He drew up in front of old Benson's house, leaped off and rushed in. "Where is she?" he cried, to the frightened woman who met him. "My wife--where is she?" A cry from the upper room answered his words; he dashed into the apartment. There, on the humble bed, lay Elizabeth, pale and changed, but alive! She was cowering back in deadly terror--putting out her hands in wild appeal. "I'm going away," she moaned; "don't kill me! I can start now--I'll go--I'll go!" He fell on his knees by the bed, he was telling the truth in wild, broken words. "Only forgive me, Elizabeth; only forgive me; my wife, my darling, can you forgive me? You would if my heart lay in your hands. Oh, Elizabeth, speak to me!" She could not comprehend what he was saying at the moment; when she did understand, her first thought was of the girl--his sister. "Elsie! Elsie!" "She is ill--dying perhaps. Oh, my wife! my wife! Try to speak--say that you forgive me."