blur came over his eyes, and he felt that his hands and feet were
turning into ice However, he made an effort to rise and salute the
elderly gentleman who stood at his side with a hand stretched out in the
cordial American fashion.

Evidently Dr. Pendegrast did not recognize Lynde, in whose personal
appearance three years had wrought many changes. The doctor himself had
altered in no essential; he was at that period of man's life--between
fifty and sixty--when ravaging time seems to give him a respite for a
couple of lustrums. As soon as Lynde could regain his self-possession he
examined Dr. Pendegrast with the forlorn hope that this was not HIS Dr.
Pendegrast; but it was he, with those round eyes like small blue-faience
saucers, and that slight, wiry figure. If any doubt had lingered in the
young man's mind, it would have vanished as the doctor drew forth from
his fob that same fat little gold watch, and turned it over on its back
in the palm of his hand, just as he had done the day he invited Lynde to
remain and dine with him at the asylum.

"Why, bless me, Denham!" he exclaimed. laying his ear to the crystal of
the time-piece as if he were sounding a doubtful lung, "my watch has run
down--a thing that hasn't happened these twenty years." As he stood with
his head inclined on one side, the doctor's cheery eyes inadvertently
rested upon Mr. Denham's face and detected its unwonted disturbance.

"Mr. Lynde has just come from Chamouni," said Mr. Denham, answering the
doctor's mute interrogation. "It seems that Ruth is ill."

Dr. Pendegrast glanced at Lynde and turned to Mr. Denham again.

"I imagine it is only a cold," Mr. Denham continued. "She was caught in