eeks, and her nut-brown hair lay in confusion about her head.
Poor, dear girl! If there ever was a suffering penitent, here was one.

In a few moments, the girl stirred, then sensing that someone was in the
room, she awoke with a start, and sprang to her feet.

"It's only Dorian," said he.

"Oh!" she put her hand to her head, brushing back her hair.

"Dorian, is it you?"

"Sure, in real flesh and blood and rusty-red hair." He tried to force
cheerfulness into his words.

"I'm so glad, so glad it's you."

"And I'm glad that you're glad to see me."

"Has he gone? I'm afraid of him."

"Afraid of whom, Carlia?"

"Don't you know? Of course you don't know. I--"

"Sit down here, Carlia." He brought a chair; but she took it nearer the
open window, and he pushed up the blind that the cool air might the more
freely enter. The sun was nearing the western hills, and the evening
sounds from the yard came to them. He drew a chair close to hers, and
sat down by her, looking silently into the troubled face.

"I'm a sight," she said, coming back to the common, everyday cares as
she tried to get her hair into order.

"No, you're not. Never mind a few stray locks of hair. Never mind that
tear-stained face. I have something to tell you."

"Yes?"

"You said you were afraid, afraid of Mr. Jack Lamont."

"Yes," she whispered.

"Well, you never need be afraid of him again."

"I--I don't understand."

"Jack Lamont is dead."

She gave a startled cry.

"Dorian--you--?"

"No; I have not killed him. He was and is in the hands of the Lord."
Then he told her what had happened that afternoon.

Carlia listened with staring eyes and bated breath. And Dorian had
actually risked his life in an attempt to save Jack Lamont! If Dorian
only had known! But he would never know, never now. She had heard of the
fight between Dorian and Lamont, as that had been common gossip for a
time; but Carlia had no way of connecting that event with herself or her
secret, as no one had heard what words passed between them that day, and
Dorian had said nothing. And now he had tried to save the life of the
man whom he had so thoroughly trounced. "What a puzzle he was! And yet
what a kind, open face was his, as he sat there in the reddening evening
light telling her in his simple way what he had done. What did he know,
anyway? For it would be just like him to do good to those who would
harm him; and had she not proved in her own case that he had been