ed the door of the sick-room and peeped in. Through the darkness
she saw the girl, sitting beside the bed, with the man's right hand
clasped in both of hers, and her head resting upon his shoulder. And
the nurse quickly closed the door again in awe, and stole away.

The girl sat there all that day and all that night, nor would leave
but for brief moments to eat, or to reassure the Beaubien over the
telephone that all was well. Doctor Morton came, and went, and came
again. Carmen smiled, and held his hand for a moment each time, but
said little. Ames had slept. And, more, his cheeks were stained where
the scalding tears had coursed down them. But the doctor would ask no
questions. He was satisfied. The nurses entered only when summoned.
And three days and nights passed thus, while Carmen dwelt with the man
who, as the incarnation of error, seeking the destruction of others,
had destroyed himself.

Then Doctor Morton announced to a waiting world that his patient would
live--but he would say no more. And the world heard, too, that
Kathleen Ames had left her father's roof--left in humiliation and
chagrin when she learned that Carmen had come there to live--and had
gone to England for a prolonged visit with the Dowager Duchess of
Altern and her now thoroughly dismayed son. But Sidney came; and with
him the black-veiled Beaubien. And they both knelt beside the bed of
suffering; and the hand of the now quiet man slowly went out and lay
for a moment upon their bowed heads, while Carmen stood near. Then
Willett was sent for; and he came often after that, and took his
master's scarce audible instructions, and went away again to touch the
wires and keys that ended the war of hatred at Avon; that brought
Father Danny in the master's private car to the great metropolitan
hospital; that sent to the startled Hitt the canceled mortgage papers
on the Express; and that inaugurated that great work of restitution
which held the dwellers in the Ames mansion toiling over musty books
and forgotten records for months to come.

What had passed between the man and the sweet-faced girl who hovered
over him like a ray of light, no one may know. That he had trod the
glowing embers of hell, his cavernous, deep-lined face and whitening
hair well testified. It was said afterward that on that third day he
had opened his eyes and looked straight into those of the girl. It was
said that she then whispered but one word, "Father." And that, when
the sou