ia and drew her down beside her.

"Mrs. Luttrell," she said, breathlessly, "tell me what it all means.
What has happened to Alwyn, and what makes him talk so strangely? Do
you know, for one moment, I believed him! In the old time they often
quarrelled--but of course it is paralysis." And then Olivia told her
all that had occurred that afternoon.

Greta listened with painful attention; then her eyes filled with tears.

"And he never knew that his mother and Olive were dead," she observed.
"Oh, Mrs. Luttrell, how sad--how terribly sad it all is! No wonder he
looked bewildered, poor fellow; it must have been such an awful shock
to hear that, and then to see his poor father fall at his feet."

"Yes, and he had been ill too; think of all the hardships he has been
through." And Greta shivered as Olivia said this.

"How little I thought," she said, "that when you were telling me about
the poor young artist that Dr. Luttrell had found on the doorstep on
Christmas night, that it was Alwyn Gaythorne, my old playmate and
friend!" Then she added, with a sigh, "What would his poor mother have
said? She and Olive almost worshipped that boy."

"We ought not to leave him too long alone," observed Olivia, wearily.
"I promised my husband that I would look after him. We must coax him
to take some food, and then he must go to bed; he is very weak still,
and all this has exhausted him." And as Greta evidently shared her
anxiety, they went back to the parlour.

They found Alwyn pacing the room restlessly. He stopped and looked
relieved as Greta entered.

"I was afraid you had gone," he said, abruptly. "Do you know you
passed me in the street this morning? You had that thing on"--touching
her sealskin mantle--"but you were not looking at me. I thought it was
a ghost, and then I tried to follow you, but some vehicles got in my
way, and then you disappeared."

"I wish I had seen you," she said, softly. And then Alwyn resumed his
restless walk.

It was with difficulty that Olivia could induce him to come to the
table, and then he could not eat; his eyes looked feverishly bright,
and his cough made Greta glance at him anxiously.

When tea was over Olivia left the room for a little. Alwyn had utterly
refused to go to bed until he had seen Dr. Luttrell; he was evidently
tormented by remorse for his hardness to his father, and Olivia thought
that he might unburden himself more freely to his old friend; and she
was right.