f frozen."

He threw off his overcoat, stiffened with the ice, and strode into the
library toward the blazing hearth. Mrs. Marable was suddenly roused to
remember the decoction that she herself had prepared, and put the glass
into his hand. But he took only a single swallow, gazing in absorption at
Gladys, who had undertaken to detail the discovery of the stone in the
pocket of the little red coat, and the theory that Mrs. Royston had
desperately based upon it. Lillian herself was hanging her head in shame
for her folly, that she should for this fantastic illusion have inflicted
on this man of all men, on whom indeed she had least claim, the agony he
had endured, and the peril of his life.

She could never have described the overwhelming tumult of her heart when
he lifted his head at the end of the story, with a look of grave and
intent pondering.

"This stone is the efflorescence of a limestone cavern, given to him, no
doubt, but when and where? And how is it that you did not know it,
knowing his every thought?" he said in a tense, excited voice.

Lillian was on her feet again in an instant, her eyes shining, her cheeks
flushed, her voice trembling. "Oh, Julian, you think it is possible that
Archie is alive! Oh, I believe it! I believe it! And the thought is like
the elixir of life, like the ecstasy of heaven!"

He made no direct reply, but turned hastily to go to the telephone. "You
cannot afford to lose any chance, even the most remote. The county
officers must be notified, advertisements sent out, and offers of reward.
There is not a moment to be wasted."

"But Gladys thinks it is a folly," cried Lillian, following him into the
hall, eager to test the negative view, fearful of her trembling hope;
"and my aunt is troubled for my sanity."

As he waited for the line, which was "busy," he turned and sternly
surveyed her. "Why should you defer to their views, Lillian? Haven't you
yet had enough of ordering your life by the standards of others? Be
yourself--if you have any identity left at this late day. Rely on your
own judgment, consult your own intuitions, rest on your own sense of
right and justice and conscience, and you cannot err!"

"Oh, Julian!" she exclaimed in tearful amaze. "How can you say that of
me--of _me_?"

He looked startled for one moment, as if he had spoken inadvertently, for
her guidance, his inmost thought, without regard to its personal
significance. Then, with a rising flush and a consci