the South, she was made to see a brave, self-sacrificing, but misled people, seeking to rivet their own chains and blight the future of their fair land. Therefore, a man like Lane, capable of appreciating and acting upon these truths, took heroic proportions in her fancy, while Strahan, almost as delicate as a girl, yet brave as the best, won, in his straightforward simplicity, her deepest sympathy. The fact that the latter was near, that his heart had turned to her even from under the shadow of death, gave him an ascendency for the time. "To some such man I shall eventually yield," she assured herself, "and not to one who brings a chill of doubt, not to one unmastered by loyal impulses to face every danger which our enemies dare meet." Then she slept, and dreamt that she saw Strahan reaching out his hands to her for help from dark, unknown depths. She awoke sobbing, and, under the confused impulse of the moment, exclaimed: "He shall have all the help I can give; he shall live. While he is weaker, he is braver than Mr. Lane. He triumphed over himself and everything. He most needs me. Mr. Lane is strong in himself. Why should I be raising such lofty standards of self-sacrifice when I cannot give love to one who most needs it, most deserves it?" CHAPTER XXIII. "MY FRIENDSHIP IS MINE TO GIVE." STRAHAN'S convalescence need not be dwelt upon, nor the subtle aid given by Marian through flowers, fruit, and occasional calls upon his mother. These little kindnesses were tonics beyond the physician's skill, and he grew stronger daily. Mrs. Strahan believed that things were taking their natural course, and, with the delicacy of a lady, was content to welcome the young girl in a quiet, cordial manner. Merwyn tacitly accepted the mother's view, which she had not wholly concealed in the sick-room, and which he thought had been confirmed by Marian's manner and interest. With returning health Strahan's old sense of humor revived, and he often smiled and sighed over the misapprehension. Had he been fully aware of Marian's mood, he might have given his physician cause to look grave over an apparent return of fever. In the reticence and delicacy natural to all the actors in this little drama, thoughts were unspoken, and events drifted on in accordance with the old relations. Merwyn's self-imposed duties of nurse became lighter, and he took much-needed rest. Strahan felt for him the strongest good-will and gratitude, but grew more and more puzzled about him. Apparently the convalescent was absolutely frank concerning himself. He spoke of his esteem and regard for Marian as he always had done; his deeper affection he never breathed to any one, although he believed the young girl was aware of it, and he did not in the least blame her that she had no power to give him more than friendship.