er down on the grass, and brought water
in a large leaf from the stream. He bathed her forehead, tenderly as a
mother might, murmuring over her words of gentleness and affection.

"My poor Margie! my poor little darling!"

He pressed the little icy hands in his, but he did not kiss the lips
he would have given half his life to have felt upon his. He was too
honorable to take advantage of her helplessness. She revived after a
while, and met his eyes, as he knelt beside her.

"Are you better?" he asked, gently.

"Yes, it is over now. I am sorry to have troubled you. I must depend on
you to go to the house with me. Nurse Day will be glad to welcome you.
And I must ask you not to alarm her by alluding to my sudden illness. I
am quite well now."

He gave her his arm, and they went up to the house together followed by
Leo.

* * * * *

Archer Trevlyn and Alexandrine Lee were married in September. It was a
very quiet wedding, the bridegroom preferring that there should be no
parade or show on the occasion. Alexandrine and her mother both desired
that it should take place in the fashionable church, where they
worshipped, but they yielded to the wishes of Mr. Trevlyn. He deserved
some deference, Mrs. Lee declared, for having behaved so handsomely.
His presents to his bride were superb. A set of diamonds, that were
a little fortune in themselves, and a settlement of three thousand a
year--pin-money. The brown-stone house was furnished, and there was no
more elegant establishment in the city.

Trevlyn House, the fine old residence of the late John Trevlyn, was
closed. Only the old butler and his wife remained in a back-wing, to air
the rooms occasionally, and keep the moths out of the upholstery. For
some reasons, unexplained even to himself, Archer never took his wife
there. Perhaps the quiet room too forcibly reminded him of the woman he
had loved and lost.

Alexandrine's ambition was satisfied. At last, she was the wife of the
man whose love and admiration she had coveted since her first
acquaintance with him. From her heart she believed him guilty of the
murder of Paul Linmere; but in spite of it, she had married him. She
loved him intensely enough to pardon even that heinous crime.

Her husband's admiration Alexandrine possessed, but she soon came to
realize that he had told her the truth, when he said his heart was buried
too deep to know a resurrection. He was kind to her--very gent