she was conscious of the look, but asked herself why? for there was no love now in Dolff’s sullen eyes. This silent party, enlivened chiefly by Mrs. Harwood’s occasional advices or directions to Janet about the winding of the wool, had been passing the evening together, as they often did, with scarcely a change of attitude; and when the door opened suddenly they all looked up with expectation, hoping at least for a break in the monotony somehow. It was Gussy who stood in the doorway, her eyes shining with moisture and joy, and a little flush of color on her face. “Oh,” she said, “he has spoken, he has come to himself!” She came round quickly to Mrs. Harwood, and, throwing her arms round her mother, sank down upon her knees by the side of the chair. “Oh, mamma,” she said, “he has come to himself: all in a moment, when we were looking for nothing but another miserable night.” She knelt there, facing them all with that sudden revelation of happiness in her face. “He knew me,” she said. “I went and kissed him, I was so happy. I thought it might help him to wake up and throw the stupor off--but chiefly because I could not help it, because I was so happy.” “My darling!” said Mrs. Harwood, taking her into her arms. Dolff and Janet, who were the spectators of this scene, unconsciously and involuntarily looked at each other, as poor Gussy made her confession. Their eyes had never willingly met before, but something, neither could tell what, compelled them to this involuntary, more than involuntary, unwilling confidence. They looked at each other, the sharers of a secret which neither dared reveal. Janet’s pale face was suddenly suffused with burning color--and Dolff looked at her with a dull flame in his eyes. The thought flashed through both their minds with one impulse. Poor Gussy, betraying herself in the rapture of her gladness over her false lover’s recovery, had not the faintest conception of this dark secret: but to hear of that sacred kiss of joy aroused something of the old fury in Dolff’s mind. He could not bear that Gussy should disclose her weakness, and in presence of the other, the woman for whom this man had nearly died. To sit composedly in the same room, as if they knew no better, to hear these innocent words, to see the full faith of the deceived but happy woman, who had thus her betrothed given back to her from the gates of death, was to Dolff unbearable. He sprang up from his seat, casting a look at Janet of rage and reproach unspeakable, and hurried to the door. “Oh, Dolff!” said Gussy, springing up and hurrying after him, “you must not, you must not! The nurse says we cannot be too careful; to look at him even might be too much--even I must not go back to-night.” “I was not going near--the fellow,” said Dolff, sullenly.