almost stopped beating. It was not alone her own happiness that was at
stake, but a life that she held dear, too, was in the hands of one whom
she had misprized, to whom she had shown no pity or tenderness.

"I will go up with you to the library, where I think we shall find
Calvert, and then I will leave you," said Mr. Morris as the coach
stopped.

They went up the broad stairway together and Mr. Morris knocked at the
library door. A voice answered "Come," and he entered, leaving Adrienne
in the shadow of the archway. A bright fire was burning on the open
hearth and before it sat Calvert. He looked ill, and his left arm and
shoulder were bandaged and held in a sling. He wore no coat--indeed, he
could get none over the bandages--and the whiteness of his linen and the
bright flame of the fire made him look very pale. At Mr. Morris's
entrance he glanced up smiling and made an effort to go toward him.

"Don't move, my boy," said Mr. Morris, hastily--"I have brought someone
to see you. She--she is here," and motioning Adrienne to enter, he went
out, softly closing the door behind him.

For an instant Calvert could not see who his visitor was, for, though
the firelight was bright, the room was much in shadow from the grayness
of the afternoon and the heavy hangings at the long windows. As the
young girl came forward, however, he recognized her in spite of her
extreme pallor and the change which two years and a half had wrought.
Concealing, as best he could, the shock of surprise and the sudden
faintness which attacked him at her unexpected presence (for he was
still very weak and ill), he bowed low and placed a chair for her. But
she shook her head and remained standing beside a little table in the