"The carriage has come," he said, "and I am prepared to accompany you to the poor sufferer as I would to any distressed countryman; but, Gerty, for the sake of the respect you owe yourself, do not allow him to suspect that your affection for him has survived his neglect." She bowed her head without speaking; and they went to the carriage, the boy who brought the letter mounting on the box with the driver. Not a word was said during the drive. Both were too absorbed for speech; and at length the messenger called out: "This is the house." Gertrude jumped from the carriage and gave a searching glance around the locality, as if to judge by it, what Paul's associations had been. Taking Edward's arm, she followed the lad up a flight of creaking stairs. The door of the room was ajar; and as they stopped a moment, Gerty heard a feeble voice ask eagerly: "Did you find the lady? Will she come?" "She is here." Turning his head Paul Dudley saw Gertrude standing at the entrance. He was lying on a low couch against the wall propped up with every article that could be turned to such a use. By his side was an unpainted bench holding a bowl of drink, and a common earthen plate with a piece of hard bread. When he saw her whom he had won in her girlhood, the recollection of all he had made her suffer rushed to his mind. He gasped out: "Go away again! I can't endure that you should see my disgrace." But she did not go. She advanced to the side of the bed, and stood looking down upon him with such an expression of sorrow that he hid his face. "I have come at your bidding," she said in a voice so calm that Edward, who remembered how he had found her almost frantic with excitement, gazed at her in wonder. "I couldn't die till I had seen you once more." "How long have you been ill?" "Ever since the day I met you at the studio. For years I had been trying to forget. In one moment the labor was undone." "Have you had medical advice?" He laughed bitterly; "I, had advice! Why for weeks together I have not owned a dollar." "How have you lived? I mean what has kept you from starving?" "It is a long story," he answered, "and I am very weak." She turned to her brother, who gave a whispered message to the lad, sending him from the room. "Is that Edward Wallingford?" murmured the sick man. "I did not send for him." "This is not a place for a lady to be seen alone," was Edward's reply; "but that is not the only reason I came. I heard you were in distress; and I came to relieve you if possible." "Nobody can do that. I have thrown away the best chance for happiness a man ever had. You know what I might have been. And you," turning to Gertrude, "know how wickedly I broke my vows to you. This is what sin has brought me to." "We are all sinners," said Gertrude earnestly, "and Christ came to save those who feel themselves to be lost without his aid. Cannot you throw yourself upon his mercy, his infinite love?"