," replied the other. "Come, get out of this.... Well, you haven't
much dressing to do. And that's good.... Steady there."

As he rose, Lane would have fallen but for a quick move of Iden's.

"Only shoes and coat," said Lane, fumbling around. "They're
somewhere."

"Here you are.... Let me help.... There. Have you an overcoat?"

"No," replied Lane.

"Well, there's a robe in the taxi. Come on now. I'll come back and
pack your belongings."

He put an arm under Lane's and led him out into the hall and down the
dim stairway to the street. Under the yellow light Lane saw a cab,
toward which Iden urged him. Lane knew that he moved, but he seemed
not to have any feeling in his legs. The cabman put a hand back to
open the door.

"Mel, here he is," called out Iden, cheerfully.

Lane felt himself being pushed into the cab. His knees failed and he
sank forward, even as he saw Mel's face.

"Daren!" she cried, and caught him.

Then all went black.

CHAPTER XXI

Lane's return to consciousness was an awakening into what seemed as
unreal and unbelievable as any of his morbid dreams.

But he knew that his mind was clear. It did not take him a moment to
realize from the feel of his body and the fact that he could not lift
his hand that he had been prostrate a long time.

The room he lay in was strange to him. It had a neatness and
cleanliness that spoke of a woman's care. It had two small windows,
one of which was open. Sunshine flooded in, and the twitter of
swallows and hum of bees filled the air outside. Lane could scarcely
believe his senses. A warm fragrance floated in. Spring! What struck
Lane then most singularly was the fact of the silence. There were no
city sounds. This was not the Iden home. Presently he heard soft
footfalls downstairs, and a low voice, as of some one humming a tune.
What then had happened?

As if in answer to his query there came from below a sound of heavy
footfalls on a porch, the opening and closing of a door, a man's
cheery voice, and then steps on the stairs. The door opened and Doctor
Bronson entered.

"Hello, Doc," said Lane, in a very faint voice.

"Well, you son of a gun!" ejaculated the doctor, in delight. Then he
called down the stairs. "Mel, come up here quick."

Then came a low cry and a flying patter of light feet. Mel ran past
the doctor into the room. To Lane she seemed to have grown along with
the enchantments his old memories had invoked. With parted lips,
eag