He looked at her sharply. Her white attire, her beauty and her pallor made her a remarkable picture as she stood there in the gathering dusk. "Are you a relative of his?" he asked. She shook her head. "No, only a friend; one to whom he has been very kind," she answered. "But I want you to tell me the truth. Will he die?" "I fear he will," the old physician answered, gravely. "There is small chance that he can live through the night. If he lives, it will be a miracle." Then he passed on. She glided through the entrance he had left open, and hurried up the flight of stairs that led to his rooms. The door stood ajar upon the landing. She pushed it open and entered; no one was visible in the outer room which served as a parlor. At one side, in a sort of study, sat a gentleman and lady engaged in low conversation; but they did not hear her light footsteps as she walked across the yielding carpet, and stood between the velvet portieres which curtained his sleeping-room. Through the colored globe the gas-light shone with subdued lustre, filling the apartment with the mellow halo of an autumn sunset. Propped up on pillows lay Percy, while above him leaned the shapely figure of a woman clothed all in black; her dusky hair and brunette face showing in marked contrast to the blond locks and marble pallor of the patient. Her hand was making light soothing passes across his brow; her eyes were full of unutterable love and sorrow. Gently she drooped over his pillow and pressed a light kiss upon his closed lids, as she murmured--"My love--my husband." Dolores drew a deep, gasping breath, like one who has been struck suddenly by an unseen foe. Helena heard the sound, and turned a startled glance in the direction from which it came. Standing between the velvet curtains, she saw the motionless figure of Dolores, majestic in her beauty, her white garments and her golden hair clearly defined against the crimson background of the draperies. Just for one breathless, pained second the two women who had been schoolmates and dear friends, looked into each other's eyes again. Then, as Helena made a movement toward her, Dolores turned her glance upon Percy--a strange, radiant, triumphant smile illuminating her face--and vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. As she made her way through the city streets, many turned to look upon the white-robed figure, and the strangely-beautiful smiling face under the nodding plumes of her hat. But no man dared speak to her. There was something in her face that awed them, and protected her from insult.