good taste and another reason had caused her to avoid him as much as
possible in the house. He seldom saw more than a passing glimpse of
her in the halls, and frequently whole days elapsed that he met her
only in the office. The young man never suspected that this fact was
due in great part to the suggestion of jealousy in the manner of the
Baroness toward the young girl ever after he had shown so much
interest in her welfare. Sensitive to the mental atmosphere about
her, as a wind harp to the lightest breeze, Berene felt this
unexpressed sentiment in the breast of her "benefactress" and strove
to avoid anything which could aggravate it.

With a lagging step and a listless air, Preston made his way up the
first of two flights of stairs which intervened between the street
door and his room. The first floor was in darkness; but in the upper
hall a dim light was always left burning until his return. As he
reached the landing, he was startled to see a woman's form lying at
the foot of the attic stairs, but a few feet from the door of his
room. Stooping down, he uttered a sudden exclamation of pained
surprise, for it was upon the pallid, unconscious face of Berene
Dumont that his eyes fell. He lifted the lithe figure in his sinewy
arms, and with light, rapid steps bore her up the stairs and in
through the open door of her room.

"If she is dead, I am her murderer," he thought. But at that moment
she opened her eyes and looked full into his, with a gaze which made
his impetuous, uncontrolled heart forget that any one or anything
existed on earth but this girl and his love for her.