"Perhaps you had better see her," returned the latter.

"No, no, no!" Mrs. Voss put up her hands and shivered as she spoke.
"I cannot, I cannot! Oh, my boy! my son! my poor Archie! Where are
you? Why do you not come home? Hark!"

The bell had rung loudly. They listened, and heard men's voices in
the hall below. With face flushing and paling in quick alternations,
Mrs. Voss started up in bed and leaned forward, hearkening eagerly.
Mr. Voss opened the chamber door and went out. Two policemen had
come to report that so far all efforts to find a trace of the young
man had been utterly fruitless. Mrs. Voss heard in silence. Slowly
the dark lashes fell upon her cheeks, that were white as marble. Her
lips were rigid and closely shut, her hands clenched tightly. So she
struggled with the fear and agony that were assaulting her life.






CHAPTER V.





A HANDSOME man of forty-five stood lingering by the bedside of his
wife, whose large tender eyes looked up at him almost wistfully. A
baby's head, dark with beautiful hair that curled in scores of