Her anger leaped like fire within her. All the passion of the woman scorned shook her from head to foot. At the very moment of her triumph she had been flouted, in the pitch of her pride! And this was not the only time. All at once the past disappointments, slights, and humiliations came again to her memory. She had pleaded, and had been rebuffed again and again; she had given all and had received neglect--she, Laura, beautiful beyond other women, who had known love, devoted service, and the most thoughtful consideration from her earliest girlhood, had been cast aside. Suddenly she bent her head quickly, listening intently. Then she drew a deep breath, murmuring "At last, at last!" For the sound of a footstep in the vestibule was unmistakable. He had come after all. But so late, so late! No, she could not be gracious at once; he must be made to feel how deeply he had offended; he must sue humbly, very humbly, for pardon. The servant's step sounded in the hall on the way towards the front door. "I am in here, Matthew," she called. "In the library. Tell him I am in here." She cast a quick glance at herself in the mirror close at hand, touched her hair with rapid fingers, smoothed the agitation from her forehead, and sat down in a deep chair near the fireplace, opening a book, turning her back towards the door. She heard him come in, but did not move. Even as he crossed the floor she kept her head turned away. The footsteps paused near at hand. There was a moment's silence. Then slowly Laura, laying down her book, turned and faced him. "With many very, very happy returns of the day," said Sheldon Corthell, as he held towards her a cluster of deep-blue violets. Laura sprang to her feet, a hand upon her cheek, her eyes wide and flashing. "You?" was all she had breath to utter. "You?" The artist smiled as he laid the flowers upon the table. "I am going away again to-morrow," he said, "for always, I think. Have I startled you? I only came to say good-by--and to wish you a happy birthday." "Oh you remembered!" she cried. "_You_ remembered! I might have known you would." But the revulsion had been too great. She had been wrong after all. Jadwin had forgotten. Emotions to which she could put no name swelled in her heart and rose in a quick, gasping sob to her throat. The tears sprang to her eyes. Old impulses, forgotten impetuosities whipped her on. "Oh, you remembered, you remembered!" she cried again, holding out both her hands. He caught them in his own. "Remembered!" he echoed. "I have never forgotten." "No, no," she replied, shaking her head, winking back the tears. "You don't understand. I spoke before I thought. You don't understand." "I do, believe me, I do," he exclaimed. "I understand you better than you understand yourself." Laura's answer was a cry.