way corner he could find.

As he crossed the hall, he heard Elizabeth call--

"Tom, Tom!"

He stopped, and she came towards him. One look at his face revealed the
whole truth. She did not speak, but took his hand in hers, with a mute
expression of sympathy which overpowered him.

"Don't! don't!" he said. "Let me go, Bessie! I'm a fool--it's all over
now! There, don't mind me--I'll be better soon! I've got a chance to go
to Europe for awhile, in fact it's to Calcutta. I shall be all right
when I come back."

"Oh, my poor old Tom! Elsie is a wicked girl to have trifled with you
so."

"She didn't!" he exclaimed, indignantly. "Don't blame her. I won't have
it. There's nobody in fault but me. I deserve it all! I'm a blundering,
wrong-headed donkey, and she's lovely as--as--"

Here Tom broke down, and going to a window looked resolutely out.

"But you won't go away, Tom?" said Elizabeth following him.

"Yes, I will. I shan't be gone but a few months. Don't try to keep me.
I'll be all right when we meet again."

"Oh, Tom, Tom!" said Elizabeth.

"Now, be still; that's a good girl; I don't want to be pitied. It's of
no consequence, not the slightest."

He broke abruptly away, and disappeared, leaving Elizabeth full of
sympathy for his distress, and regret at the idea of losing her old
playmate--she had depended on him so much during her husband's absence.

There had been a lull in the music, but it struck up again now, and the
saloons reverberated with a stirring waltz. Elizabeth stood a moment
listening to the crash of sound and the tread of light feet, but her
heart was full and her brow anxious. She went to the window and looked
out. It was a lovely night, but the eternal roll and sweep of the ocean
seemed to depress her with some terrible dread. In all that splendid
tumult she was alone. As she stood by the window her husband came down
the hall smiling upon the lady who hung upon his arm. He had not missed
her, would not miss her. There was no fear of that. She glided away with
this dreary thought in her mind. Mellen almost touched her as she turned
into a little room opening upon the conservatory, but she went on
unnoticed.

Tom Fuller had retreated into the conservatory, and was sitting
disconsolately in an iron garden chair, sheltered by a small tree,
drooping with yellow fringe-like blossoms, when a lady entered from one
of the side doors, and passed out towards the gardens.

Tom started up, and calle