Minny sprang wildly to her feet--"Oh, Miss Della!" she exclaimed, as she bent over the senseless form before her, pouring out her passionate accents as if there was an ear to hear them. "Oh, Miss Della, how could you crave this knowledge to-day, of all other days? Had it been yesterday morning, or ever before in all our life here together, I would not have known, and you would have never known. To-day, of all days! Oh, I have broken this poor, sensitive heart; woe is me, woe is me! Oh, if I had only died before I learned this dreadful secret, only died! only died!" With trembling hands, and eyes raining down their gushing tears, Minny bathed the pale brow, and brought rare perfumes, and chafed the little hands. "Miss Della! Miss Della! I knew it would kill you--and you only guessed; I never told you--oh, no, never, never, never!" Slowly Della returned to consciousness, and as her eyes unclosed, they fell upon the agonized face of her weeping attendant. She closed them quickly, and raised her hand so as to wave her from her sight, but it dropped listlessly back into her lap, and she lay still in the large chair, apparently as weak and helpless as an infant. "Oh, Miss Della! God forgive me for what I have done, though I never meant to do it--never thought to do it. What could have turned your thoughts on this to-day?" "Go away," murmured Della, faintly; "go away, so that I may open my eyes and not see you." Minny moved a few paces back. "I can see you in the glass yet; go away so that I can't see you anywhere, Minn." Weeping bitterly, Minny retired to the other apartment; and Della, with folded hands, sat quite still with downcast eyes and pallid cheeks, looking like a statue of meditation. A little French clock upon the mantle-piece struck the hour, and went on with its monotonous tick, tick--that unobtrusive voice of warning and admonition--until the half hour was sweetly chimed, and still Della sat there, pale, and still thinking. At length she rose, and with an energy unusual with her, walked hastily back and forth across the room. It had a soothing effect, and her brow was calm and resolute, yet shadowed as if with some new lesson of life, harshly forced upon her. She seated herself once more before the mirror. "Minny, I am ready for you now." Minny came, with her face calm and corpse-like, and once more essayed to bind up the rich bands of hair. "Place my wreath a little more front. My cheek needs the shade of that bright rose to relieve its pallor--so--that effect is charming." "Your hair is dressed, Miss." Della sprang to her feet like one who resolutely tossed some load from the heart, and taking the hand-mirror from the table, surveyed the arrangement of her hair altogether. "Beautiful! Minny, you have excelled yourself to-night." "Thank you, Miss. What dress?" "My India mull, and the rose-colored ribbons." The dress was brought, and Della stood before the full-length mirror while Minny fastened it.