gesture of horror, saying to the girl in a
low, hurried voice, "Dear me, how dreadful! I really must be going."

As she went down the flower-bordered path towards the street, the woman on
the porch, again, stretched out her arms appealingly. Then, as Sibyl
reached her side, the poor creature clasped the girl in a close embrace,
and burst into bitter tears.

* * * * *

Upon the return of the Taines and James Rutlidge to the house on Fairlands
Heights, Mrs. Taine retired immediately to her own luxuriously appointed
apartments.

At dinner, a maid brought to the household word that her mistress was
suffering from a severe headache and would not be down and begged that she
might not be disturbed during the evening.

Alone in her room, Mrs. Taine--her headache being wholly
conventional--gave herself unreservedly to the thoughts that she could
not, under the eyes of others, entertain without restraint. She was seated
at a window that looked down upon the carefully graded levels of the
envying Fairlanders and across the wide sweep of the valley below to the
mountains which, from that lofty point of vantage, could be seen from the
base of their lowest foothills to the crests of their highest peaks. But
the woman who lived on the Heights of Fairlands saw neither the homes of
their neighbors, the busy valley below, nor the mountains that lifted so
far above them all. Her thoughts were centered upon what, to her, was more
than these.

When night was gathering over the scene, her maid entered softly. Mrs.
Taine dismissed the woman with a word, telling her not to return until she
rang. Leaving the window, after drawing the shades close, she paced the
now lighted room, in troubled uneasiness of mind. Here and there, she
paused to touch or handle some familiar object--a photograph in a silver
frame, a book on the carved table, the trifles on her open desk, or an
ornamental vase on the mantle--then moved restlessly away to continue her
aimless exercise. When the silence was rudely broken by the sound of a
knock at her door, she stood still--a look of anger marring the
well-schooled beauty of her features.

The knock was repeated.

With an exclamation of impatient annoyance, she crossed the room, and
flung open the door.

Without leave or apology, her husband entered; and, as he did so, was
seized by a paroxysm of coughing that sent him reeling, gasping and
breathless, to the nearest chair.

Mr