Conway had not long to wait before the door opened and Lettie stood before him. She had evidently taken considerable pains to enhance her personal appearance. She was dressed with great taste and care, though with great simplicity; but her close-fitting black silk dress showed her grand figure to its best advantage. She had soft white lace around her neck, and in her magnificent black hair there nestled a scarlet flower. Perhaps it was the excitement of this meeting that lent an additional color to her cheeks and unusual brightness to her eyes. She had never looked better, and she knew it. Perhaps she had intended to create a comparison between herself and the woman he loved. “Lettie? Is this Lettie?” cried Conway, in amazement. “Why, how you have changed!” There is a love for the beautiful implanted in our breasts, and there was nothing disloyal to his love in Conway’s admiration of this girl’s beauty. He would have felt as great admiration for a glorious statue. But Lettie did not think of this; she forgot to judge his love by her own, and his evident pleasure at the sight of her caused her heart to beat tremulously with hope. She gave him both hands. “Yes,” she said, “this is Lettie; have you forgotten her already?” “No; I had not forgotten you,” replied Conway, as he placed a chair for her. “But I did not expect to find you so changed. You are very beautiful.” Lettie flushed and palpitated with pleasure. “I am glad you find me so,” she said softly. “Your beauty surprised me for a moment,” said Conway, with gentle gravity. “Your aunt will be glad to know that you are looking so well. And now,” he said abruptly, almost sternly, “tell me about this man.” Lettie bit her lips, and her face paled a little. “Yes,” she said sadly. “I forgot you came for that.” Conway walked once across the room with his hands clasped behind him. “I suppose you will think me very ungrateful, Lettie,” he said, as he stopped in front of her, “but I have suffered intensely. You know how long I have loved Norine, and how patient I have been. Well,” he said, with something of a gasp in his voice, “we were to be married Christmas, and this came so suddenly.” He stopped and walked across the room again, evidently struggling to master himself. “You may love some day, Lettie,” he broke off abruptly, “and then you will understand my misery.” “I will love some day,” thought the girl bitterly. “Have I not loved and suffered long enough?” But her heart was touched by his anguish, and she put out her hand to him in pure womanly sympathy. “I do understand,” she said softly, “and I pity you so much.” Conway grasped her hand, and then let it fall. This sympathy was harder to bear, after all his misery, than a blow would have been. “Tell me,” he said huskily, “tell me all you know about this.”