would break down all at once. The long strain of
the whole evening; his strange, unnatural mood; her struggle against
wretchedness--all were too much for her to bear. She tried to speak,
and, failing, fought for strength, sobbed thrice, a terrible, hysterical
sob, like a child's, and then turned white and shivered, without
uttering a word.

"Yes," he said, "a long time, Dolly"--but his sentence was never ended,
for that instant she went down as if she had been shot, and lay near his
feet quivering for a second, and then lying still.

He was not stayed even then. He bent down and lifted her in his arms and
carried her to the sofa, pale himself, but not relenting. He seemed to
have lived past the time when the pretty, helpless figure, in all its
simple finery, would have stirred him to such ecstasy of pain. He was
mad enough to have believed even her helplessness a lie, only that the
cruel, ivory pallor was so real. He did not even stoop to kiss her when
he turned away. But all the treasure of faith and truth and love had
died out of his face, the veriest dullard could have seen; his very
youth had dropped away from him, and he left the old, innocent dreams
behind, with something like self-scorn.

"Good-by," he said; "we have lost a great deal, Dolly--or I have lost
it, I might say. And even you--I believe it pleased even you until
better fortune came; so, perhaps, you have lost something, too."

Then he went to the bell and touched it, and, having done so, strode out
into the narrow hall, opened the front door and was gone; and when,
a few minutes later, Aimee came running down to answer the strange
summons, she found only the silent room, Dolly's white, piteous face
upon the sofa-cushion, and the great package of those old, sweet,
foolish letters upon the table.

CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER.

IT was all over,--all over at last. Dolly's first words had said this
much when she opened her eyes, and found Aimee bending over her.

"Has he gone?" she had asked. "Did he go away and leave me?"

"Do you mean Grif?" said Aimee.

She made a weak gesture of assent.

"Yes," Aimee answered. "He must have gone. I heard the bell ring, and
found you lying here when I came to see what it meant."

"Then," said Dolly, "all is over,--all is over at last." And she turned
her face upon the cushion and lay so still that she scarcely seemed to
breathe.

"Take another drink of water, Dolly," said Aimee, keeping back her
que