“Oh, my God, Laurie, what are you going to do to my poor child? She did not mean to do it--it was all an accident; you heard her say so! And, after all, that wretched girl is alive and well, and has triumphed over us in every way!” sobbed the wretched mother. He looked at her a moment without speaking, his mind busy with the problem she had presented. In great emergencies the mind moves very rapidly. His course was quickly decided. “I think my father’s idea of sending Lelia to a hospital for nerve treatment an excellent one,” he said. “If she objects, she must be made to understand that it is the most prudent course. As for her guilty secret, since Miss Whitney chooses to keep it, let us three be as generous. For the rest, I leave The Crags to-morrow, and America soon afterward, for an indefinite sojourn abroad. I shall appoint my father in my place as Miss Whitney’s guardian.” “And Lelia?” the mother cried eagerly. “Will you not in time forgive her, and take her home to your heart?” “Never!” “That is cruel, Laurie.” “No, it is only just. She will never be wife of mine, save in name only.” Lelia had sunk down upon the floor, with her arms clasped around her knees. A dull calm had succeeded her wild ravings. “She will come to herself soon--she grows calmer. Indeed, this is the worst spell she ever had. I did not dream of those telltale proofs, or I would have destroyed them,” the poor mother cried, defiantly adding: “You may leave me alone with her now, to tell her when she is rational the cruel truth that will break her heart and drive her mad in reality.” Laurie and his father bowed silently and withdrew, leaving her alone with Lelia amid the desolate ruins of their towering hopes and dreams. It seemed as if The Crags was never to have done with sensations. The next day it was whispered about that the young bride, Mrs. Willoughby, had suffered a nervous collapse from the troubles at The Crags, and was to be placed at once in a Northern sanatorium for treatment. She remained closely in her room all the next day, attended only by her mother. What went on behind that closed door none knew but Mrs. Ritchie, but by the dawn of the morrow the gray hairs she was dreading shone silvery white in her fair hair. Lelia had not taken her defeat very well. And the bridegroom was gone without any farewells to his unloved bride. CHAPTER XLI. IN EXILE. Such a beautiful young girl as Rosalind Whitney could not escape notice and attention at the seaside resort where she was staying with her kind nurse, Mrs. Goodwill. Though she was quiet and reserved, the people soon ferreted out her romantic history, for it had gotten into all the newspapers. Every one knew directly that the young heiress had been lifted suddenly from poverty and obscurity to wealth and position. They declared that she must have deserved it, she was so lovely and so gracious, without any of the insufferable airs of the upstart.