She shuddered, and crept a little closer to Lesley's bosom. "Oh, why must he go--without me--without me?" she cried. And then she burst out suddenly into bitter weeping, and with Lesley's arms about her she wept away some of the "perilous stuff" of misery which had seemed likely to destroy the balance of her brain. When those tears came her reason was saved, and Lesley was wise enough to be reassured and not alarmed by them. She was very much exhausted when the burst of tears was over, and Lesley was allowed to feed her with strong soup, which she took submissively from her friend. "You won't go?" she whispered, when the meal was done. And Lesley whispered back: "I will not go, darling, so long as you want me here." "I want you--always." Then with a gleam of returning strength and memory: "What was it they said about your father?" Lesley shivered. "Never mind, Ethel, dear," she said. "But--I know--I remember. That he was--a--oh, I can't say the word. But that is not true." "I _know_ it is not true. It is a foolish, cruel mistake." "It could not be true," Ethel murmured. "He was always kind and good. Tell him--from me--that I don't believe it, Lesley. And don't let them take you away from me." Holding Lesley's hand in hers, at last she fell asleep; and sleep was the very thing that was likely to restore her. The doctor came and went, forbidding the household to disturb the quiet of the sick-room; and after a time, Lesley, exhausted by the excitements and anxieties of the day, laid her head on the pillow and also slept. It was late in the afternoon when Maurice Kenyon, stealing softly into the room, found the two heads close together on one pillow, the arms interlaced, the slumber of one as deep as of the other. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at the sleeping figures. "Poor girls!" he muttered to himself. "Well for them if they can sleep; but I fear that theirs will be a sad awakening." Suddenly Lesley opened her eyes. The color rushed to her pale cheeks as she saw who was regarding her, but she had sufficient self-control not to start or move too hastily. Ethel altered her position at that moment, and left Lesley free to rise, then sank back to slumber. And, obeying a silent motion of Maurice Kenyon's hand, Lesley followed him noiselessly into the dressing-room. CHAPTER XXXIV. THE EVIDENCE. "She ought not to be left alone: I promised not to leave her," said Lesley in a low tone. "I have brought a nurse with me. She can go in and sit by the bed until you are ready to return," said Maurice, quietly. "Call us, nurse, if my sister wakes and asks for us; but be very careful not to disturb her unnecessarily."