possible; for in all the world this was the only woman who clung to him,
and it was beautiful to cherish and be cherished after years of
solitude. A long sigh of desire and regret broke from him, and at the
sound a stealthy smile touched Ottila's lips as she whispered, with a
velvet cheek against his own--

"Love, you will stay?"

"I will not stay!"

And like one who cries out sharply within himself, "Get thee behind me!"
he broke away.

"Adam, come back to me! Come back!"

He looked over his shoulder, saw the fair woman in the heart of the warm
glow, heard her cry of love and longing, knew the life of luxurious ease
that waited for him, but steadily went out into the night, only
answering--

"In a year."

CHAPTER II.

WHIMS.

"Come, Sylvia, it is nine o'clock! Little slug-a-bed, don't you mean to
get up to-day?" said Miss Yule, bustling into her sister's room with the
wide-awake appearance of one to whom sleep was a necessary evil, to be
endured and gotten over as soon as possible.

"No, why should I?" And Sylvia turned her face away from the flood of
light that poured into the room as Prue put aside the curtains and flung
up the window.

"Why should you? What a question, unless you are ill; I was afraid you
would suffer for that long row yesterday, and my predictions seldom
fail."

"I am not suffering from any cause whatever, and your prediction does
fail this time; I am only tired of everybody and everything, and see
nothing worth getting up for; so I shall just stay here till I do.
Please put the curtain down and leave me in peace."

Prue had dropped her voice to the foreboding tone so irritating to
nervous persons whether sick or well, and Sylvia laid her arm across her
eyes with an impatient gesture as she spoke sharply.

"Nothing worth getting up for," cried Prue, like an aggravating echo.
"Why, child, there are a hundred pleasant things to do if you would only
think so. Now don't be dismal and mope away this lovely day. Get up and
try my plan; have a good breakfast, read the papers, and then work in
your garden before it grows too warm; that is wholesome exercise and
you've neglected it sadly of late."

"I don't wish any breakfast; I hate newspapers, they are so full of
lies; I'm tired of the garden, for nothing goes right this year; and I
detest taking exercise merely because it's wholesome. No, I'll not get
up for that."

"Then stay in the house and draw, read, or practise. Sit w