"No, no," cried Louise, passionately, as she strained her friend to her breast, "we will not despond yet. All this comes across our lives like a dense black cloud, and there must be a great change in the future. Your father will recover." "I pray that he may," said Madelaine. "And I will not believe that Harry is--dead." "I pray that he may be alive, Louie, to come some time in the future to ask forgiveness of my father. For I did love him, Louie; at first as a sister might the brother with whom she had played from childhood, and of late in sorrow and anguish, as the woman whom he had always said he loved. I fought with it, oh, so hard, but the love was there, and even when I was most hard and cold--" "And he believed you cared for Mr Leslie." The words slipped from Louise Vine's lips like an escaped thought, and the moment they were spoken, she shrank away with her pale cheeks crimsoning, and she gazed guiltily at her companion. "It was a foolish fancy on his part," said Madelaine gravely. "I cannot blame myself for anything I ever said or did to your brother. If I had been wrong, my lapse would have come upon me now like the lash of a whip; but in the long hours of my watches by my poor father's bed, I have gone over it again and again, and I cannot feel that I have been wrong." Louise drew her more closely to her breast. "Maddy," she whispered, "years will have to pass, and we must separate. The pleasant old days must end, but some day, when all these horrors have been softened by time, we may call each other sister again, and in the long dark interval you will not forget." "Forget!" said Madelaine, with a smile full of sadness. "You know that we shall always be unchanged." "Going--so soon?" exclaimed Louise, for her friend had risen. "He is lying yonder," said Madelaine. "I must go back. I could not stay away long from you, though, without a word." They stood for a few moments clasped in each other's arms, and then in a slow, sad way went hand in hand towards the door. As she opened it for her friend to pass through, Louise shrank back from the burst of sunshine that flooded the passage, and placed her hand across her eyes. It was a momentary act, and then she drew a long breath and followed her friend, as if her example had given the needed strength, and acted as an impetus to raise her from the lethargic state into which she had fallen. In this spirit she went down with her to the door, when, as their steps sounded on the hall floor, the dining-room door was thrown open quickly, and Vine stood in the darkened opening, gazing wildly at the veiled figure of Madelaine. "Van Heldre?" he said, in an excited whisper; "not--not--" He could not finish his speech, but stood with his hand pressed to his throat. "My father's state is still unchanged," said Madelaine gently. "Then there may yet be hope, there may yet be hope," said Vine hoarsely as he shrank once more into the darkened room.