s!" burst forth the champion of the absent. "You know me,
but you don't know what a worthless, unattractive little imp I am
compared to her. You don't know her, but you shall! And when you do,
poor me will have to take a seat lower down in the tabernacle of your
affections."

"I wonder if this 'other' would so readily resign her lover to you?"
she said.

"Would she!" flashed Claire. "Would she _not_? Has she not? Ah, if you
knew her, you would never say that!" Then suddenly capturing the other
hand of the lady, she said, in quieter but very grave tones: "Can you
listen to a long story, Mrs. Ralston; rather to several stories
combined in one? I am going to tell you what I have so much wanted you
to know--the story of Madeline Payne."

Mrs. Ralston expressed her more than willingness to hear all that
Claire had to tell, and the girl settled down comfortably on the
ottoman at the feet of her friend, and began at the beginning. It was
indeed a long story, for Claire omitted nothing. As she told how
Madeline had exposed to her the baseness of Percy, Mrs. Ralston
started up, her face pale as death, and then sank back in her chair.

"Percy!" she cried. "What--what is his other name?"

Claire stared at her in amazement. "What is it, Mrs. Ralston--you are
ill?"

"No," almost gasped the lady; "tell me--his name."

"I did not intend to speak his name," Claire said, slowly. "It is
Edward Percy."

Mrs. Ralston was on her feet in an instant, her face flushing with
excitement. "Come with me!" she almost shrieked. "Quick! to my room."

Wondering vaguely, Claire followed.

Mrs. Ralston almost flew to her apartment. She flung open the door,
and in an instant was on her knees beside a trunk, opening trays and
searching for something eagerly.

"Look!" she cried, suddenly thrusting out something toward Claire;
something from which she averted her own face. "Look, did you ever see
that face?"

The girl gave one glance and uttered a sharp cry. It was a miniature
painted on ivory; painted years ago, but she knew it only too well.

Mrs. Ralston regained her feet, trembling so that she could scarcely
stand.

"Where did you get it?" cried Claire. "It is he; Edward Percy!"

Mrs. Ralston started forward and took the picture from her hand. "_It
is my husband!_" she whispered.

With the words on her lips, she fell heavily to the floor, in a dead
faint.

When Mrs. Ralston awoke to consciousness, she was lying upon her bed,
with