le group of meddlesome
women who had tried to tear her from her friend's side. At the look they
disappeared. They dared not say another word after meeting the rebuke
conveyed in Lesley's pale, set face and resolute eyes. They closed the
door behind them, and left the two girls alone.

For a long time neither spoke. Ethel seemed to have relapsed once more
into a semi-unconscious state. Lesley sat motionless, pillowing her
friend's head against her shoulder, and stroking one of her hands with
her own. Now and then hot tears welled over and dropped upon Ethel's
dark, curly head, but Lesley did not try to wipe them away. She scarcely
knew that she was crying: she was only aware of a great weight of
trouble that had come upon her--trouble that seemed to include in its
effects all that she held most dear. Trouble not only to her friend, but
to her father, her mother, her lover. Not a shadow of doubt as to her
father's innocence rested upon her mind: there was no perplexity, no
shame--only sorrow and anxiety. Not many women could have borne the
strain of utter silence with such a burden laid on them to bear. But to
Lesley, even in that hour, Ethel's trouble was greater than her own.

An hour must have passed away before Ethel murmured,

"Lesley--are you there?"

"Yes, I am with you, darling: I am here."

"You are crying."

"I am crying for you, Ethel, dear."

For the first time, Ethel's hand answered to her pressure. After a
little silence, she spoke again--

"I wish I could die--too."

"My poor little Ethel."

"I suppose there is no chance of that. People--like me--don't die. They
only suffer--and suffer--and break their hearts--and live till they are
eighty. Oh, if you were kind to me, you would give me something to make
me die."

She shuddered, and crept a little closer to Lesley's bosom. "Oh, why
must he go--without me--without me?" she cried. And then she burst out
suddenly into bitter weeping, and with Lesley's arms about her she wept
away some of the "perilous stuff" of misery which had seemed likely to
destroy the balance of her brain. When those tears came her reason was
saved, and Lesley was wise enough to be reassured and not alarmed by
them.

She was very much exhausted when the burst of tears was over, and Lesley
was allowed to feed her with strong soup, which she took submissively
from her friend. "You won't go?" she whispered, when the meal was done.
And Lesley whispered back: "I will not go, dar