made no answer. His head was bent over the revolver. He
broke it open, and spilled the cartridges into his palm.
Still he made no answer. When he raised his head, his eyes
were no longer stern, but wistful, and filled with an
inexpressible loneliness.

"No, _I_ am Carey," he said.

The one who had blundered stood helpless, tongue-tied, with no
presence of mind beyond knowing that to explain would offend
further.

The other seemed to feel for him more than for himself. In a
voice low and peculiarly appealing, he continued hurriedly.

"He is my doctor," he said. "He is a young man, and he has
not had many advantages--his manner is not--I find we do not
get on together. I have asked them to send me some one else."
He stopped suddenly, and stood unhappily silent. The
knowledge that the strangers were acquainted with his story
seemed to rob him of his earlier confidence. He made an
uncertain movement as though to relieve them of his presence.

Miss Forbes stepped toward him eagerly.

"You told me I might wait in the library," she said. "Will
you take me there?"

For a moment the man did not move, but stood looking at the
young and beautiful girl, who, with a smile, hid the