him distinctly:

"On the Twenty-fifth of last month, just an hour after he was made
manager. He fell in a faint at the Works."

The day--the very day of Miss Challoner's death!

"Had he heard--did you tell him then or afterwards what happened in New
York on that very date?"

"No, no, we have not told him. It would have killed him--and may yet."

"Edith! Edith!" came again through the hush, a hush so deep that
Sweetwater received the impression that the house was empty save for
patient and nurse.

This discovery had its effects upon him. Why should he subject this
young and loving girl to further pain? He had already learned more than
he had expected to. The rest would come with time. But at the first
intimation he gave of leaving, she lost her abstracted air and turned
with absolute eagerness towards him.

"One moment," said she. "You are a stranger and I do not know your name
or your purpose here. But I cannot let you go without begging you not to
mention to any one in this town that Mr. Brotherson has any interest in
the lady whose name we must not speak. Do not repeat that delirious cry
you have heard or betray in any way our intense and fearful interest
in this young lady's strange death. You have shown me a letter. Do not
speak of that letter, I entreat you. Help us to retain our secret
a little longer. Only the doctor and myself know what awaits Mr.
Brotherson if he lives. I had to tell the doctor, but a doctor reveals
nothing. Promise that you will not either, at least till this crisis is
passed. It will help my father and it will help me; and we need all the
help we can get."

Sweetwater allowed himself one minute of thought, then he earnestly
replied:

"I will keep your secret for to-day, and longer, if possible."

"Thank you," she cried; "thank you. I thought I saw kindness in your
face." And she again prepared to close the door.

But Sweetwater had one more question to ask. "Pardon me," said he, as he
stepped down on the walk, "you say that this is a critical day with your
patient. Is that why every one whom I have seen so far wears such a look
of anxiety?"

"Yes, yes," she cried, giving him one other glimpse of her lovely,
agitated face. "There's but one feeling in town to-day, but one hope,
and, as I believe, but one prayer. That the man whom every one loves and
every one trusts may live to run these Works."

"Edith! Edith!" rose in ceaseless reiteration from within.

But it rang but fain