“Tell her the truth, and she will get over it,” was the answer. And so they broke it to Berenice that they had been talking over matters with their father, explaining Rosalind’s wishes, and he had agreed to marry her quietly to-morrow, to silence the tongue of gossip that might babble because she had come alone to him across the sea. Berenice was almost petrified with astonishment at the unexpected news. “Oh, it is horrible to think of!” she cried vehemently. “Must this terrible sacrifice go on? Will no one save the victim?” The sisters began to feel very angry with Berenice, she was so stubborn, so unjust to Rosalind. It was no use arguing with her, she would not listen to reason. They decided to appeal the case to their father. They told him all Berenice’s resentment, all her hatred of Rosalind, whom she had already wronged so deeply, and they told him it was his duty to lecture the unreasonable young wife and compass her reconciliation with Rosalind. “For if Rosalind is willing to forgive her, Berenice ought to be thankful to be forgiven,” they said, very pertinently, and indeed it seemed that way. So Senator Bonair himself went to argue the case with his daughter-in-law, which he did with all the eloquence at his command, since it was the dearest wish of his warm heart to have all his family on friendly terms. Berenice listened with downcast eyes and heaving breast to every word, for she knew she was being blamed for causeless resentment. They thought Charley was asleep in so deep a stupor he comprehended nothing, but suddenly he opened his eyes full upon them with the clear light of reason shining through. “Oh, Charley, do you know us? Have we disturbed you?” sobbed Berenice. And he answered weakly: “I have been hearing and understanding all you and father said, and I think you are in the wrong, my darling.” “In the wrong?” she panted. “Yes, all in the wrong. If Rosalind wants to be friends with us, let us yield for father’s sake, because it will make him happier.” Berenice slipped her cold hand in his and looked up wistfully at her father-in-law, saying: “Do you then love Rosalind so very much?” For a moment the senator hesitated, then he answered frankly: “I have never pretended to love Rosalind, but I esteem and admire her very much, so that I am willing to marry her, to atone for Charley’s desertion.” “Then we should all make sacrifices to that end,” she murmured rather bitterly. “Yes, I think we should,” the senator replied, out of his high code of honor, though his heart was heavy in his breast with thoughts of the wedding to-morrow. Charley pressed the cold little hand that nestled in his and faltered weakly: “I agree with father, Berenice. We should be friends with his future wife.” “Oh, Charley, you would not ask me if you knew all!” she sobbed, then suddenly: