“It shall be as you wish,” he replied, with a sigh of relief, and so ably did he second her efforts to get away that within two days she was en route with the nurse for the sea, the others remaining behind to close up the house and make the proper arrangements till her return. A weight of care seemed to fall from Lelia’s shoulders with the going of her rival. Her distrust of Rosalind, her restless fears of betrayal, in spite of the girl’s promise of silence, gave place to a sense of peace and security. Now that Rosalind, with her brilliant, dark eyes and pathetic red mouth was gone, she could surely win Laurie back. That night and the next she slept calmly, dreamlessly, with no self-betrayal in word or gesture of her terrible secret. Mrs. Ritchie was frankly delighted. She assured her daughter she was cured. “It was that girl’s presence that kept you nervous and fanciful, and no wonder, having defrauded you of your inheritance!” she said. “But now she is gone, and you do not talk in your sleep any more, lose no time in making up with Laurie.” That was easier said than done. He seemed oblivious to all her exquisite costumes and tender blandishments. Lelia pouted that he was always poring over horrid papers with that lawyer. Something must be done, and Mrs. Ritchie and Lelia cunningly planned it out. Late that evening as he bent over some papers in the library, his mother-in-law came softly in. “Please pardon me for disturbing you,” she said gravely. “I have not told you that Lelia has been ill and nervous every night since your aunt died, and I am quite worn out with watching by her side. I say nothing of your duty, but surely it should be your pleasure to relieve me to-night. Will you come?” “The maids----” he began, but she cut him short. “Are all out attending a country ball. You cannot delegate your duty to them! Laurie, this is monstrous! Did you marry my poor daughter just to break her heart? Your scorn is killing her by inches. Come,” and he obeyed the imperious beckoning of her hand. Lelia had already retired. She lay, a vision of pearl-fair beauty, among the lace-trimmed pillows. “Oh, Laurie, you have come! I am so glad, for now poor mama can have a night’s rest! I am so ill, so nervous. Will you sit by me and hold my hand till I fall asleep? I am so tired.” She did not mean to fall asleep at all, artful Lelia! She was only waiting for the sense of her exquisite beauty to thrill him into love again. But her mother had given her a drop too much of the nervine, and with her hand in his as he sat stiffly by the couch, she sank into a light slumber. Laurie looked down at the beautiful sleeper, wondering at his own coldness. How transcendently fair she was, why could he not learn to love her again? He must, because now she was his wife, he owed her all his fealty. Her lips moved with a murmured sentence. He bent his head eagerly to listen. CHAPTER XXXVIII. WAS IT A VICTORY?