"Still, I could not live without my mother; and I do not need to, of course. As soon as she discovers how truly good and noble Mr. Keller is, and what a devoted son he is ready to be to her, it will be all right. Mother has always wanted a son." A note of appeal had crept into her voice as though she longed to hear from even this stranger an assurance that all would be well. Mrs. Dunlap's mother-heart bled for her, and a throb of thankfulness for the absolute safety of her own daughter thrilled through her. With it came the determination to do what she could to help this girl, even at the cost of a possible mistake. "My child," she said, "I feel that I must tell you something that I think you ought to know. You are registered at this hotel as 'R. H. Keller and wife!' And one room—not two—is being made ready for you." CHAPTER II FOR a moment Mrs. Dunlap regretted her words. The terror in the girl's eyes transformed her face; and the low cry she gave was almost like that of a wounded animal! But she rallied rapidly and said with eagerness: "Oh, you are mistaken! It is some other person whose name you have mistaken for his. He would not—why, Rufus could not do such a thing!" "My dear child, I am not mistaken." The very quietness of the woman's voice and manner carried conviction. "The name is R. H. Keller and the man who is with you here to-night is the one who sat before me with you yesterday afternoon, and wrote his name as I have told you, just before I did on the register." Suddenly the poor girl broke into bitter weeping. "What shall I do!" she wailed. "Oh, what shall I do! Oh, mother! If I had never gone away from you! I have killed her! I have killed my mother!" "No, you haven't!" Mrs. Dunlap's voice had never been quieter, nor firmer. "You are going home to her this morning, as soon as the train goes. In a few hours she will have her arms about you. And when you are really being married, she will stand very near you, and be the first to kiss you, and call you her darling. You wouldn't disappoint her for anything! Come with me to my room and wait until train time. There ought to be one very early in the morning, and I will see you safely to it." The girl seized the little hand bag she had dropped, and spoke hurriedly. "Where is the room? Oh, quick! Take me to it, will you? That was what I wanted; a place to be alone and think. I don't know what I can do, but I must decide; and I must do it before Mr. Keller comes back, because—oh, will you let me go into your room and lock the door?" They both turned hurriedly at the sound of footsteps. It was a porter to say that No. 37 was ready; and never were fleeter steps than those that followed his lead. "Oh, hurry!" the girl said breathlessly as they reached the room, and it was she who turned the key in the lock after the retreating porter. Then she dropped a limp heap into the nearest chair and cried. Mrs. Dunlap left her quite to herself and thanked God for the tears.