“Never, never, my darling! I have loved you always--you alone. Oh, why did you write so coldly, rejecting my offered heart and hand, and telling me that another had won you?” There was no answer. The strength excitement had supplied for the moment was gone, and she lay apparently lifeless in his arms. With a sharp cry of agony he laid her back upon her pillow, and began chafing the cold hands and pressing passionate kisses on the pale lips. Hearing his cry as she neared the door of the sick-room, Ada hurried in, full of wonder and alarm. “Rolfe!” she exclaimed in astonishment. “Ada, make haste! Throw up the window to give her air! Hand me that bottle of ammonia--quick, quick! she’s dying! she’s dead! Oh, Ethel, my life, my love! have I found you only to lose you again?” he groaned, redoubling his efforts to restore her to consciousness, while Ada, divided between amazement at his presence there and excessive agitation, and her fear that life was really extinct, hastily obeyed his orders. “Thank God, she yet lives!” he said in tones tremulous with emotion, as at length the eyelids began to quiver and a long, sighing breath came from the white lips. “Rolfe,” they whispered very low and feebly. “Yes, yes, I am here, my poor little Ethel,” he answered, kneeling by her couch and fondly caressing her hair and cheek. “You will live for me, and nothing in life shall ever part us again.” A beautiful smile crept over her face as she opened her eyes for a single instant; then closing them again, she fell asleep with her hand in his. Ada stood on the farther side of the bed, looking and listening in increasing surprise and wonder. Mrs. Heywood and the nurse stole in on tiptoe and beheld the scene in no less astonishment and perplexity, but Rolfe motioned them all away, and kept guard over the slumbers of the invalid as one who had a superior and undoubted right. She slept quietly, awoke refreshed, and refused neither food nor medicine at his hands. But he would not let her talk. “Wait, my Ethel, till you are stronger,” he said, “and then we will tell each other all. In the mean time we may rest content in the knowledge that we are restored to each other, and no earthly power can part us.” Lips and eyes smiled brightly, and a faint color stole into her cheek, but faded again as she moaned sadly, “My baby, my baby!” the tears stealing down her face. “We will find her; she shall be restored to you. Nothing is impossible to a determined will,” he said with energy. She believed him, and once more resigned herself to peaceful slumber. It was now near midnight, yet a bright light burned in the sitting-room. Mr. and Mrs. Heywood and their daughter, too much excited to think of retiring, sat there waiting for they scarce knew what. Reluctantly leaving Ethel to the care of the nurse, Rolfe joined them.