ght--it was so sudden--so----"

Her voice died away in a sob, and she clung more closely to him, while
he kept his arm about her waist, pressed his lips on her forehead and
gave himself respite from the whirl of dark thoughts which had been in
his jealous mind. The joy of reunion and the pleasure of finding himself
at home after that long absence, broke through it all.

He felt her shiver all over, and remembered the danger they both ran
standing there in their wet clothing.

"You are cold--shivering--and I am keeping you in these wet things!"
cried Grantley, gathering her in his arms and mounting the stairs. "You
are drenched, my sweet child. It was wrong to go out in a storm like
this. Indeed, indeed it was, dear one."

She made no answer, but was seized with a cold shivering fit in his
arms. He carried her into the little sitting-room, and, seating her in
an easy chair, took off her hood and cloak, speaking soft, tender words
as he removed the garments, and smoothed her hair with a caressing
movement of the hand.

"You must change your dress, Elizabeth," he said. "Do it at once. I have
some dry clothes in my room, I suppose, which I shall put on."

"Yes," she returned, hurriedly; "go--go at once. You are glad to get
home, are you not--glad to see me, Grantley?"

There was a tone of almost piteous entreaty in her voice; she was so
disturbed by the shock of his sudden presence that her nerves could not
recover their firmness at once.

Grantley Mellen held his wife to his heart and whispered fond and loving
words, such as he had breathed during their brief courtship before a
shadow clouded over the beauty of their lives.

"There shall be no more clouds," he whispered, "no more trouble. Look
up, Elizabeth! Say that you love me--that you are glad as I am."

"I do love you, my husband--with all my heart and soul I love you! I
_am_ glad--very, very glad."

"And I love you, Bessie. I did not know how well until I went away. But
we shall never part any more--never more."

Elizabeth was weeping drops as cold as the rain on her face. It was
unusual for her to allow any feeling of joy or pain to overcome her so
completely.

"You are weak and nervous to-night, Bessie," he said, tenderly. "I was
wrong to come upon you so suddenly."

"No, no!" she cried, vehemently. But even in her denial she shuddered,
remembering whom she had just left and how she had met her husband.

Then she arose to go, but staggered in her