graced your name to that extent. I have
starved, and nearly died of cold on a doorstep, but I have kept my
hands clean."

"Alwyn," exclaimed Mr. Gaythorne, piteously, "I was too hard, I will
confess that. All these years I have been longing to atone, and the
sorrow and remorse have made me an old man before my time. There was
much to forgive--much that you made me bear. Surely you cannot deny
that."

"No, sir, I will not deny that I was a sad scapegrace, but you never
took the right way to keep me straight. But for my mother and Olive, I
should have run away long before. Father"--and here there was a
frightened look in his eyes--"where are they? Why are you alone?"
Then, as Mr. Gaythorne raised his hand with a solemn gesture, the young
man laid his head down on the mantelpiece and his whole frame shook
with convulsive sobs.

"Dead! Oh, no--impossible! My own mother, who always believed in me,
and my little Olive!" he gasped out more than once.

"Mr. Alwyn," observed Olivia, putting her hand on his shoulder, but the
tears were running down her face as she spoke, "your father cannot bear
much more. I am afraid he is ill." But even as she spoke, Mr.
Gaythorne, who had risen from his chair rather stiffly, suddenly fell
on the rug at his son's feet.

The next moment the pealing of the bell brought Mrs. Crampton and the
frightened servants to the room. They found Mrs. Luttrell and the
stranger kneeling by the side of the prostrate form; but as the
housekeeper caught sight of the young artist's face, she uttered a
sudden cry. "It is Mr. Alwyn," she said, "and the joy of seeing him
has killed my master." But Olivia hushed her.

"Send for Dr. Luttrell," she said; "we must do nothing till he comes.
Mr. Alwyn,"--for the unfortunate young man seemed on the verge of
fainting,--"I do not think he is dead; it is some sort of attack. We
must do the best we can for him, without moving him, until my husband
comes." But to her intense relief Marcus entered a moment afterwards.

One quick glance at the young artist's agitated face gave Dr. Luttrell
a vague clue to the mystery, but he was soon too deeply engrossed with
his patient to think of anything else. Under his directions, a
temporary bed was made in the library, and the invalid was undressed
and laid on it. Mrs. Crampton, who was a capable nurse, carried out
the doctor's instructions, and Olivia made herself useful.

After the first few minutes Alwyn had l