"My darling little Precious, you remember _that_ day, _that_ night! I feared you hated me for my boldness, and I have not dared to venture near you since! But my heart urges me to write, for I am _free_ now--Ethel has jilted me--and my irrepressible love for you is no longer a wrong to your sister. Ah, Precious, will you let me love you--will you love me in return? My heart is thrilling with a mad hope of success, for something tells me you will be mine! To-morrow evening I shall call on you to know my fate. Ah, love; love, love, be kind to me, for unless I win you for my worshiped bride the world will be a great dreary blank to me, and life not worth the living. Ah, Precious, the kiss I took that day when you lay senseless in my arms burns on my lips still. You were angry, and I could not blame you. Perhaps it only made it worse when I confessed that evening all my hopeless love for you. But I meant no wrong; I was leaving you forever! Ah, how changed is everything! I am glad Ethel found out she did not love me and broke our bonds of her own free will. Now she will not care for our love, now you will forgive me, now you will promise to be mine, will you not, my little darling? ARTHUR." The happy blue eyes wandered lovingly over the tender words, and then Precious kissed the letter and placed it again beneath the pillow. Then she started, as a shadow fell across the bed. It was Ethel, tall and white and spirit-like, hovering over her in the flood of white moonlight. "Sister!" cried Precious in surprise, then with, a swift fear: "Oh, what has happened? Earle?" "There is no bad news of Earle. Do not be frightened, dear," and Ethel knelt down by the white bed, crying shudderingly: "Oh, Precious, I am so unhappy I shall die unless I find some comfort!" Her face was convulsed with pain. Some burning tears fell on the younger girl's cheek as Ethel leaned above her, sobbing wildly, her pallid face half-hidden by the long veil of dark, flowing tresses. She felt white arms reach out and draw her close; warm lips kissed the burning tears from her cheeks. "Ah, Ethel, I know, I understand, for I heard to-day," whispered Precious fondly. "You think he loves me best--papa, I mean. But, Ethel, no, it is not that. I will tell you how it is. He loves me because I have mamma's face--mamma whom he worships so tenderly. Ethel, do not let it grieve you. He loves you well, and I----" "Hush, child, you madden me!" cried Ethel hoarsely. She was silent a moment, then resumed passionately: