With a sudden flood of outraged dignity, she turned to Howard. "For the first time I must refuse you," she said firmly. "This book is the gift of a noble friend. As such I shall prize it always." She held out her hand to Mr. Holt, and he took it. Reverently bowing his head, he said quietly, "God bless you both." Raising it again, he looked toward Howard. His face, angry and tense, was stubbornly averted. He looked toward Edith. She smiled at him gently. "Goodbye, good friend," she said quietly. "Goodbye," he said, with a world of sympathy in his voice. Then he turned, and with slow thoughtful footsteps, walked down the path and was lost to sight. CHAPTER XVI. Away From the World, Soul meets Soul. "I'm more than pleased with Edith's improvement," remarked George to Alma, as they sat upon the porch awaiting Harold's return from exploring the premises, and Edith's awakening from her daily siesta. "But if you had seen her one week ago," returned Alma sadly, "And, since then, seen her fail daily, you would be as discouraged as I am." George looked at Alma steadily. "What has made this change? There must be a cause, Alma; are you hiding anything from me?" Alma dropped her eyes evasively. Should she tell George everything? After all, it was Edith's affairs. It savored of unfaithfulness to her to betray her confidence. But then Edith's health! George could do nothing for her, if he was deceived in any way. He ought to know what a selfish, suspicious husband she had. With the thought of Howard, Alma's face tingled. How he left at an hour's notice, without saying goodbye to Edith! He had lingered just long enough to see Mr. Holt go. Suddenly Alma looked up to meet Walter's earnest gaze. "George, let us go to some more private spot, and I will tell you what you ought to know." "I ought to know everything," replied George gravely, as they left the chairs. "Otherwise I am useless professionally." They walked down the path until they reached the same little summerhouse where Edith had laid in her chair and listened to Alma's confidence. Edith, from her window at the house, saw them through the trees and watched them enter. Then they were shut out from her view by the dense foliage. She stifled a quick sob. Nervously she resumed her dressing. It was George's first day in Boonville. She could not rest, but sought solitude on that pretext. Now she must soon join them and act her part. Slowly she dressed, delaying the ordeal as long as possible. Her toilet at last completed, she seated herself near the open window and looked out upon the lovely lake view. Her thoughts today had tortured her almost beyond endurance. "Would that I could lose myself in its depths," she said, wearily, and a great melancholy superseded her sterner mood. "That is a wrong thought," she said to herself; "Mr. Holt would call it the result of the selfishness that makes for sin."