She had been crying during all this twilight hour she had knelt at the window. She was so lonely that it seemed impossible to do anything else. It would have been bad enough to bear the suspense even if Aimée had been with her, but without Aimée it was dreadful. The tears slipped down her cheeks and rolled away, and she did not even attempt to dry them, her affectionate grief had mastered her completely. But she was roused at length. Some one crossed the street from the pavement opposite the house; and when this some one entered the gate and ascended the steps, she rose slowly, half-reluctant, half-comforted, and with a faint thrill at her heart. It was Ralph Gowan, and she was not wise enough or self-controlled enough yet to see Ralph Gowan without feeling her pulses quicken. When she opened the door he did not greet her as usual, but spoke to her at once in a low, hurried tone. “Mollie, where is Aimée?” he asked. Her tears began to flow again; she could not help giving way. “You had better come in,” she said, half turning away from him and speaking brokenly. “Aimée is not here. She left London three days ago. Dolly--” “Dolly is worse!” he said, because she could not finish. She nodded, with a heart too full for words. He stepped inside, and, closing the door, laid his hand upon her shoulder. “Then, Mollie,” he said, “I must come to you.” He did not wait a moment, but led her gently enough into the parlor, and, blinded as she was by her tears, she saw that instant that he had not come without a reason. “Don't cry,” he said. “I want you to be brave and calm now,--for Dolly's sake. I want your help,--for Dolly's sake, remember.” She recollected Aimée's words--“Mr. Gowan has seen him”--and a sudden light flashed upon her. The tears seemed to dry of their own accord all at once, as she looked up. “Yes,” she answered. He knew, without hearing another word, that he might trust her. “Can you guess whom I have just this moment seen?” he said. “Yes,” sprang from her lips, without a second's hesitation. “You have seen Grif.” “I have seen Grif,” he answered. “He is at the corner of the street now. If I had attempted to speak to him he would have managed to avoid me; and because I knew that, I came here, hoping to find Aimée; but since Aimée is not here--” “I can go,” she interrupted him, all a-tremble with eagerness. “He will listen to me; he was fond of me, too, and I was fond of him. Oh! let me go now!” That bright little scarlet shawl of Dolly's lay upon the sofa, and she snatched it up with shaking hands and threw it over her head and shoulders. “If I can speak to him once, he will listen,” she said; “and if he listens, Dolly will be saved. She won't die if Grif comes back. She can't die if Grif comes back. Oh, Dolly, my darling, you saved me, and I am going to try to save you.”