hours.
But she is bearing it better now--much better than I had hoped for."

"I will go to see her at once. Oh, if I knew how to comfort her!"

To this Mr. Voss made no response, but Mrs. Birtwell, who was looking
into his, face, saw an expression that she did not understand.

"She will see me, of course?"

"I do not know. Perhaps you'd better not go round yet. It might disturb
her too much, and the doctor says she must be kept as quiet as
possible."

Something in the manner of Mr. Voss sent a chill to the heart of Mrs.
Birtwell. She felt an evasion in his reply. Then a suspicion of the
truth flashed upon her mind, overwhelming her with a flood of
bitterness in which shame, self-reproach, sorrow and distress were
mingled. It was from her hand, so to speak, that the son of her friend
had taken the wine which had bewildered his senses, and from her house
that he had gone forth with unsteady step and confused brain to face a
storm the heaviest and wildest that had been known for years. If he
were dead, would not the stain of his blood be on her garments?

No marvel that Mr. Voss had said, "Not yet; it might disturb her too
much." Disturb the friend with whose heart her own had beaten in
closest sympathy and tenderest love for years--the friend who had flown
to her in the deepest sorrow she had ever known and held her to her
heart until she was comforted by the sweet influences of love. Oh, this
was hard to bear! She bowed her head and stood silent.

"I wish," said Mr. Voss, speaking to Mr. Birtwell, "to get the names of
a few of the guests who were here last night. Some of them may have
seen Archie go out, or may have gone away at the time he did. I must
find some clue to the mystery of his absence."

Mr. Birtwell named over many of his guests, and Mr. Voss made a note of
their addresses. The chill went deeper down into the heart of Mrs.
Birtwell; and when Mr. Voss, who seemed to grow colder and more
constrained every moment, without looking at her, turned to go away,
the pang that cut her bosom was sharp and terrible.

"If I can do anything, Mr. Voss, command--" Mr. Birtwell had gone to
the door with his visitor, who passed out hastily, not waiting to hear
the conclusion of his sentence.

"A little strange in his manner, I should say," remarked Mr. Birtwell
as he came back. "One might infer that he thought us to blame for his
son's absence."

"I can't bear this suspense. I must see Frances." It was an hour af