Charles, the valet, immediately ran into the house for his master’s drops, while Pansy lifted her husband’s head and pillowed it against her breast. Phebe could do nothing but wring her hands and utter excited ohs and ahs. “You had better leave him to me, ma’am,” said Charles, with a composure that betrayed his familiarity with these painful attacks. He took her place with polite insistence, and then Pansy remembered that her husband had seemed a little excited over something in the paper he was reading. She took the paper up from the floor, where it had fallen, and, in a very few moments, had found out the cause of Colonel Falconer’s sudden seizure. Forgetful of everything but herself in the wild rush of joy that overwhelmed her soul, she rushed upstairs to her room, and, throwing herself into a chair, read and reread the precious paper, while her love for Norman Wylde, so long repressed and denied, thrilled her whole being again with inexpressible rapture. “Oh, my love, my love! You were true to me--you loved me, you mourned for me, for I was, indeed, your wife! The dark stain of disgrace is effaced from me, and the whole world may know now that Pansy Laurens was an honored wife, and that her child had a right to its father’s name. Oh, my little Pet, my precious child, would that I could fly this moment and take you by the hand and lead you to your beloved father, telling him how much I love you both!” she sobbed passionately, forgetting for the moment the man downstairs, whose heart was so bound up in her. It was not natural that she should remember him at that moment, for the shock of joy had been so great as to blot out everything else for the time being. Joy in Norman’s constancy and love, and horror at the sin of Mr. Finley and Juliette Ives, filled her whole mind. She forgot Colonel Falconer and his illness, forgot that she was another man’s wife, forgot everything but her love for Norman Wylde, the young husband from whom she had been sundered by such a cruel fate. “Oh, my love, my darling, would that you were here now,” she kept murmuring over and over, forgetful of the lapse of time, until she was startled from her blissful reverie by a low tap upon the door. “Come in!” she exclaimed, and the door unclosed, admitting Colonel Falconer, who was ghastly pale, and staggered unsteadily across the threshold. “Oh!” cried Pansy, in a heart-piercing tone, for everything rushed over her at once at the sight of his haggard, pain-drawn face. “Poor child! You were so happy that you had forgotten me,” he said gently. “Forgive me!” she sighed remorsefully, and then suddenly the pretty dark head fell back against her chair, and she became unconscious. Colonel Falconer made no effort to revive her. He stood by her side, gazing with gloomy eyes at the white, unconscious face, and at length he muttered: