Mrs. Dunn and Alys said nothing, but they wished in their hearts that Italy had perished and Francis Murray escaped. Then they might have woven anew their spider’s web to ensnare a good man’s heart. Too late! Too late! There could scarcely be one hope that he had survived, for the next day, when Italy was able to speak, she told feebly the story of their accident, how the dory had been cleft in twain by the steamer, and that she had been swept instantly away and never heard his voice again. The day succeeding was the first of September, when the house-party was to break up. Mrs. Dunn and her favorite niece, Alys, took leave with silky purrings of sympathy for the bereaved hostess, but Alexie begged frankly to stay and nurse the sick girl, who was too weak yet to leave her bed. Mrs. Murray was glad to have her stay, glad for some one else to watch over Italy, whom she hated now with more virulence than ever. “Through this girl I have lost my son, and I will never willingly look upon her face again. When she gets well, either she or I must leave The Lodge,” she avowed before them all. Mrs. Dunn and Alys vowed that she was right, Percy Seabright said nothing, but Ralph and Alexie looked shocked and indignant. “But, dear Mrs. Murray, the accident was not Italy’s fault,” cried the warm-hearted girl. But Mrs. Murray’s terrible bereavement had but hardened her cold heart. “The girl disobeyed me in going with Francis that night. Had she remained at home, as I bade her, he would now be alive and well. No, I will never forgive Italy Vale for my son’s tragic death, and as soon as she recovers I shall ask her to make her home elsewhere.” Alexie looked pleadingly at her aunt. “May I ask her to become our guest this winter?” she murmured. “Decidedly not. Mrs. Murray’s cause is mine, and I fully endorse her course,” was the brusk reply. The quick tears came into Alexie’s sweet blue eyes as she turned them on Ralph. He whispered tenderly: “When we are married you shall have our friend for your guest as long as you like. In the meantime I will see if we cannot find a pleasant home for her as soon as she is able to leave The Lodge.” He went away with the rest that day, but Alexie knew that he would return on the morrow, for all the sunshine of Ralph Allen’s life lay in those sweet, blue eyes of his fair, betrothed bride, and for them the course of true love had always run smooth. CHAPTER XI. WITHOUT A HOME. Overwhelmed with grief and horror at her son’s fate, Mrs. Murray held firmly to her resolve not to see Italy again. She regarded the hapless girl as a murderess. In vain did Alexie try to assuage her keen despair by pointing out to her that there was no certainty of her son’s death, but that he might possibly have been saved by the very steamer that had destroyed the little dory and set Italy adrift upon the wide sea.