“I can not marry you,” she repeated miserably. “It’s bad enough, isn’t it? Don’t make it worse. Some day, before long, you will be glad.” “Then it is because you have never loved me.” There were depths of hurt pride in his voice. “You saw how much I loved you, and you let me think you cared—for a while. No—that isn’t like you, Louise. There is something you haven’t told me. Is it—because there is some one else?” “Yes,” almost inaudibly. “Louise! Oh, I don’t believe it.” “It is true,” she said sadly. “Halsey, you must not try to see me again. As soon as I can, I am going away from here—where you are all so much kinder than I deserve. And whatever you hear about me, try to think as well of me as you can. I am going to marry—another man. How you must hate me—hate me!” I could hear Halsey cross the room to the window. Then, after a pause, he went back to her again. I could hardly sit still; I wanted to go in and give her a good shaking. “Then it’s all over,” he was saying with a long breath. “The plans we made together, the hopes, the—all of it—over! Well, I’ll not be a baby, and I’ll give you up the minute you say ‘I don’t love you and I do love—some one else’!” “I can not say that,” she breathed, “but, very soon, I shall marry—the other man.” I could hear Halsey’s low triumphant laugh. “I defy him,” he said. “Sweetheart, as long as you care for me, I am not afraid.” The wind slammed the door between the two rooms just then, and I could hear nothing more, although I moved my chair quite close. After a discreet interval, I went into the other room, and found Louise alone. She was staring with sad eyes at the cherub painted on the ceiling over the bed, and because she looked tired I did not disturb her. CHAPTER XIV. AN EGG-NOG AND A TELEGRAM We had discovered Louise at the lodge Tuesday night. It was Wednesday I had my interview with her. Thursday and Friday were uneventful, save as they marked improvement in our patient. Gertrude spent almost all the time with her, and the two had grown to be great friends. But certain things hung over me constantly; the coroner’s inquest on the death of Arnold Armstrong, to be held Saturday, and the arrival of Mrs. Armstrong and young Doctor Walker, bringing the body of the dead president of the Traders’ Bank. We had not told Louise of either death. Then, too, I was anxious about the children. With their mother’s inheritance swept away in the wreck of the bank, and with their love affairs in a disastrous condition, things could scarcely be worse. Added to that, the cook and Liddy had a flare-up over the proper way to make beef-tea for Louise, and, of course, the cook left.