Ethel had dropped her face in her hands. When her brother lifted it he was startled at its expression, the ghastly face, the eyes wide and dark with horror. He scolded Hetty roundly for her rashness in blurting out the news to his sister, and the girl stood aside sulkily at his reproof. "Never mind Hetty; she meant no harm, Earle; but tell me all about it. Where did you find Precious?" gasped Ethel, clinging to him in wild excitement. And holding her head against his arm and smoothing the dark waves of her hair with a loving hand Earle told the story as far as he knew it--the story of his young sister's rescue by Arthur, Lord Chester. Kay, the splendid mastiff, came in for a share of praise too, and Hetty, the maid, listened intently to it all and nodded excitedly when Earle said: "The greatest wonder of all is how Kay came to be there; but of course if Precious revives she can explain all that." He felt Ethel shuddering against his arm, and Hetty saw how she trembled, and said to herself: "I think Miss Ethel could explain it too, if she would, and if she don't speak I shall begin to think she has some strange secret worth more than the gift of a bracelet." "I must go back to my mother now, for our father is too wretched himself to comfort her. Ethel, try to come down if you can," he said, as he left the room. Ethel dragged herself out of bed, moaning: "You must dress me, Hetty, and let me go to my poor sister." Hetty brought her slippers and a pretty wrapper, and while she was putting them on she exclaimed: "What a brave young man Lord Chester must be!" Ethel's heart gave a fierce throb of mingled pride and pain. "And," pursued the loquacious maid, "he is the rich lord that they all say you are going to marry, isn't he, Miss Ethel?" "Yes," answered Ethel carelessly, then added: "But I don't think I shall accept him." She turned away from the maid as she spoke and went from her own apartments toward those of Precious, nearer to her mother. She opened the door very softly and glided in. They were all there, her father, mother, brother, and the physician. Precious lay on her bed, white as a lily, but breathing faintly. She had revived from her swoon, but she had not yet spoken. Her half-open blue eyes seemed to know that they were all there, but she was too exhausted to utter a word. Ethel bent down and pressed her lips on the wasted little hand, and when she met the gaze of the half-conscious blue eyes she whispered, too low for any one to hear: "Please don't tell any one I was there with you, Precious, until you get well enough for me to explain." The little hand she was holding gave hers a weak pressure that showed her that Precious understood and would not speak. The others, looking on at the little by-play, thought that Ethel was only whispering to Precious of her joy at her return.