“I shall burn this, and you must forget it,” he said, decisively; but she answered: “Burn it if you will. The words are engraven on my heart!” Very gravely and tenderly he said: “Try to forget it, Molly, for Cecil will be ashamed soon that he wrote such cruel words to you. Do as I told you, dear. Try to win him back in spite of coldness, in spite of neglect. These will not last, for Cecil can not succeed in putting you from his heart, and in a few short months you will have a claim on him that he can not deny and that _must_ break down every barrier of his pride.” She hid her face against his sleeve, and whispered: “I shall pray Heaven to let me die when my hour of trial comes, for if I lived he would hate my child for its mother’s sake.” Wisely and gravely he tried to dissuade her from such wild prayers, preached love and patience to the sore heart until he won her promise that she would still try in spite of scorn and rebuffs to win Cecil back. Then he left her calmed and quieted, and went out to make preparations for his return that night to Paris. CHAPTER XXXV. When he came back several hours later to bid her farewell she was lying quiet with her eyes shut. Phebe whispered cautiously: “She is asleep!” The dark eyes opened quickly. “I am not asleep. I was only thinking,” she said. Then she met her brother-in-law’s kind eyes fixed on her full of pity. She drew him down to her and whispered: “I have been thinking of what I promised you, but I’m afraid it will be useless to try, for how can I win him back if I never see him?” “You must see him,” Doctor Charley replied firmly. “But how? I can not send for him again, and he will not come of his own will.” “That is true. But, Molly--how strange it sounds to call you Molly! You must get strong enough to go out of this room, to meet your husband at the table, and in the parlor daily. You must accept invitations to places where he will be compelled to attend you. Gradually you will win him back to his old attendance on you, his old loving care. Then the rest will be easy.” “I will try, oh, so hard,” she said, and deeply moved, he pressed the little nervous hand. “When you get stronger you will write to me and tell me how you get on with your labor of love,” he said. “And now, little sister, I must bid you adieu, I must return to Paris tonight, having missed all the lectures during the weeks I have been chasing that runaway Cecil.” “God bless you for all your goodness to me,” she whispered, and he went away with those grateful words ringing like music in his ears. She turned wistfully to Phebe. “Do you not think I am strong enough to go into the parlor tonight?”