m, closing the door carefully behind her. With a
palpitating heart she leaned over the balustrade; was it a false alarm,
after all? The next instant there was a violent pull at the bell, as
startling in the dead of the night as some supernatural summons. Before
Ruth could hurry down, Nora, looking greatly bewildered, came out of
her room and rushed to the door. In a trice she was back again with the
telegram and had put it into Ruth's hands.

"Fifteen cents' charges," she said.

"Pay it," returned Ruth.

As the maid turned away, she tore open the envelope. Before she could
open the form, a firm hand was placed upon hers.

"Give me that," said her mother's voice.

Ruth recoiled; Mrs. Levice stood before her unusually quiet in her white
night-dress; with a strong hand she endeavored to relax Ruth's fingers
from the paper.

"But, Mamma, it was addressed to me"

"It was a mistake, then; I know it was meant for me. Let go instantly,
or I shall tear the paper. Obey me, Ruth."

Her voice sounded harsh as a man's. At the strange tone Ruth's fingers
loosened, and Mrs. Levice, taking the telegram, re-entered the room;
Ruth followed her closely.

Standing under the chandelier, Mrs. Levice read. No change came over
her face; when she had finished, she handed the paper without a word to
Ruth. This was the message:--

RENO, Jan. 28, 188--

MISS RUTH LEVICE, San Francisco, Cal.

Found your father very weak and feverish and coughing continually.
Insists on getting home immediately. Says to inform Dr. Kemp, who will
understand, and have him at the house on our arrival at 11.30 Thursday.
No present danger.

LOUIS ARNOLD

"Explain," commanded her mother, speaking in her overwrought condition
as if to a stranger.

"Get into bed first, Mamma, or you will take cold."

Mrs. Levice suffered herself to be led there, and in a few words Ruth
explained what she knew.

"You knew that yesterday before the train left?"

"Yes, Mamma."

"And why didn't you tell me? I should have gone to him. Oh, why didn't
you tell me?"

"It would have been too late, dear."

"No, it is too late now; do you hear? I shall never see him again,
and it is all your fault--what do you know? Stop crying! will you stop
crying, or--"

"Mamma, I am not crying; you are crying, and saying things that are
not true. It will not be too late; perhaps it is nothing but the cough.
Louis says there is no danger."

"Hush!" cried her mother, her whole figure