loved, of feeling her hands clasped in his, after
all her years of self-depression, broke down her resolution.

"I fear it is too late, Karl. My strength is gone. My will is lost. We
have gone back six years. Karl, I love you."

CHAPTER XIV

The last words she whispered with infinite tenderness, and her head fell
on his breast. Hysterically they clasped each other in their arms and,
half laughing, half sobbing, looked into each other's eyes. Karl leaned
over her, murmuring his love and kissing her eyes and hair.

"Be careful; he is in there," Olga warned him finally, again pointing at
the door behind which their evil spirit lurked. Then she whispered
shyly:

"Did my letter surprise you?"

"Letter?" Karl asked, astonished. "What letter, dear heart?"

"Karl, I understand you wish to be discreet," Olga said reproachfully,
"but it is my first letter and I am not ashamed. Let us be honest; I am
not afraid. I love you. When I wrote that letter I hardly knew what I
was doing, and I must confess I felt ashamed at first. But I am no
longer ashamed now; I am proud. Sometimes women do not write what they
want, Karl, but they always want what they write. Karl, I would like to
read that letter over again in your arms."

That letter meant much to Olga; it was her only love letter. She had
never written to Karl before, except in the conventional boy and girl
fashion, when she did not know how to express love. Her correspondence
with Herman had always been of the most perfunctory sort. Never before
had she poured out her soul as she did in this letter. Now she wanted to
see what she had written; to read it over with the man for whom it was
intended.

It was with a shock of pain that she beheld Karl's indifference, and she
was amazed when he added:

"I received no letter from you, Olga."

"What! how can you say so? Was not a letter delivered to you this
morning?"

"I assure you that I did not receive any letter from you," Karl said
earnestly.

The realization of Millar's trick was like a blow in the face to Olga.
She saw now how he had deliberately lied to her, in order that she would
certainly repeat her confession of love to Karl. In what a bold,
forward, disloyal attitude she had been placed! Her first impulse was of
anger, and she ran toward the anteroom.

"Doctor! Dr. Millar!" she called wildly.

The door opened noiselessly and Millar stood bowing on the threshold.

"My--my letter!" Olga stammered.