he muttered, without changing his attitude.
"Do not trouble yourself about me. I
shall soon be well."

It was so sweet to be conscious of her gentle
ministry, that it required a great effort, an effort
of conscience, to rouse him once more, as his
strength returned.

"Had you not better stay?" she asked, as he
rose to put on his overcoat. "I will call one of
the servants and have him show you a room.
We will say to-morrow morning that you were
taken ill, and nobody will wonder."

"No, no," he responded, energetically. "I
am perfectly strong now." But he still had to
lean on a chair, and his face was deathly pale.

"Farewell, Miss Edith," he said; and a tender
sadness trembled in his voice. "Farewell. We
shall--probably--never meet again."

"Do not speak so," she answered, seizing his
hand. "You will try to forget this, and you
will still be great and happy. And when fortune
shall again smile upon you, and--and--
you will be content to be my friend, then we
shall see each other as before."