“I am _so_ glad!” was all she could say, and that in a voice too weak for anything but a whisper. He could have bowed his head and wept over her to find her thus, all her bright beauty faded, her strength nearly spent, almost dying, he feared. But he knew he must control himself and minister to her, if he would save her. “Have you anything that will give her strength?” he asked, turning to her attendant. “Yes; there are wines and liquors in the cabinet, and beef-tea warm upon the gas-stove in the bath-room.” Earle had convinced himself with a glance before this that there was only one door to the bath-room, and he now commanded her to bring some of the beef-tea. She brought it almost immediately. “Taste it yourself first,” he said, curtly. “You need not fear for her—I have no desire to have the life of _any_ one to answer for,” she said scornfully, and flushing. “Drink some of it,” he persisted. He would not trust her, and she swallowed a mouthful unhesitatingly. He then slipped his arm gently under Editha’s pillow, and lifted her until she could lean comfortably against his shoulder. “Drink this now, dear, for my sake,” he said, putting the bowl to her lips. Without a question she obeyed, drinking slowly until the last drop had disappeared, and Earle’s heart began to grow lighter. If she would do that often she would soon be better, he thought. “That will give you strength,” he said; “now lie down and try to sleep. I shall not leave you again to-night, and when you are refreshed I will let you talk with me a little.” He laid her gently back, stopping to kiss her almost hueless lips as he did so. She put one hand up over the back of his neck and held him a moment so, his face almost touching hers. “You have saved me, Earle,” she said, feebly. “I trust so, my injured darling,” he answered, with unsteady voice, and then watched her while the tired eyes closed; the wan face settled into peace, and she slept like a weary child. Then he turned his attention to the woman, who had watched him with wondering eyes all the while. Pointing to a lounge on the opposite side of the room, he said: “Madam, if you are weary you can lie down there until morning. I shall take charge of your patient henceforth.” “By what right?” she demanded, bridling. “The right of her promised husband,” he answered, sternly. The woman started violently, searched his face a moment, her own growing very pale again. “Are you——” she began, but her lips refused to complete the sentence. “My name is Earle Wayne. Doubtless you have heard it before, and now surmised as much,” he said, not pitying her agitation in the least. “I do not believe it,” she at last said, in a low, angry tone, while at the same time she steathily moved in the direction of the bell-pull. Earle marked the movement.