She did not heed his words, and perhaps his touch on her head recalled some exquisitely painful memory, for she shook it off, and exclaimed,-- "Doubtless, like the remainder of the curious herd, you are wondering at my 'crown of glory,'--and conjecturing what dire tragedy bequeathed it to me. Sir,-- 'My hair was black, but white my life: The colors in exchange are cast! The white upon my hair is rife, The black upon my life has passed.' Dr. Grey, I understand you; but you need not stay here to keep guard over me, as if I were an imbecile or a refugee from an insane asylum. That I am not the one or the other, is attributable to the fact that my powers of endurance are almost fabulous. You fear that in my loneliness and complete isolation I may turn coward, at the last ordeal I am put through,--and, like Zeno cry out, and in a fit of desperation strangle myself? Dr. Grey, make yourself easy. I do not love my Creator so devotedly that I must needs hurry into his presence before He sees proper to send me a summons.'" "I am afraid to leave you here, for any woman who does not love and reverence her Maker, requires a guardian. Of course you will do as you like, but I shall remain here as long as you do." He rose, and crossing his arms on his chest, began to walk about the pavilion. She caught up her hair, twisted it hastily into a knot, and secured it with her comb. As she did so, a small cluster of double violets dropped into her lap. She had gathered them the preceding afternoon, had carried them as an offering to Elsie, who insisted that she should wear them in her hair, "they looked so bonnie just behind the little roguish ear." At her request Mrs. Gerome had placed them at the side of her head, and the old woman made her lean down that she might smell them, and leave a kiss on their blue petals. Now the sight of the withered flowers melted her icy composure, and, as she lifted the little crushed, faded bouquet, and pressed it against her wan cheek, a moan broke from her colorless lips. "Oh, Elsie,--Elsie! How could you desert me? You knew you were all I had to love and trust,--and how could you die and leave me alone,--utterly alone, in this miserable world that has so cruelly injured me!" She clasped her hands passionately over the flowers, and the motion caused the sapphire ring, which was now much too large, to slip from the thin finger, and roll ringing across the marble floor. Dr. Grey picked it up, and as he replaced it, drew her hand under his arm, and led her out of the boat-house. They walked slowly, and as they ascended the steps, he saw his buggy approaching the side gate. Opening the parlor door, he drew his companion into the room, where the Psyche lamp still burned brightly. "Mrs. Gerome, will you trust me?" He had hoped that a return to the house would touch her heart and make her weep, but the cold, dry glitter of her eyes disappointed him.