the door firmly in her hand.

"I have a message from my brother for her--it is necessary that I
should deliver it," Mrs. Goddard obstinately returned. Mrs. Weld
looked back into the room inquiringly.

"I do not wish to see any one," Edith weakly responded, but in a voice
of decision which told the listener outside that the girl had no
intention of yielding the point.

"Very well; then I will wait until she feels stronger," said the
baffled woman, whereupon she beat an ignominious retreat, and the
invalid was left in peace.

Mrs. Weld spent as much time as possible with her, but she of course
had her duties below to attend to; so, at Edith's request, she locked
her in and took the key with her when she was obliged to go
downstairs.

Once, while she was absent, some one crept stealthily to the door and
knocked.

Edith started up, and leaned upon her elbow, a momentary look of fear
sweeping her face; but she made no response.

The knock was repeated.

Still the girl remained motionless and voiceless, only her great blue
eyes began to blaze with mingled indignation and contempt, for she
knew, instinctively, who was seeking admission.

"Miss Al--Edith, I must speak with you--I must have an interview with
you," said the voice of Emil Correlli from without.

Still no answer from within; but the dazzling gleam in the girl's eyes
plainly showed that that voice had aroused all the spirit within her
in spite of her weak condition.

"Pray grant me an interview, Edith--I have much to say to you--much
to explain--much to entreat of you," continued the voice, with a note
of earnest appeal.

But he might as well have addressed the walls for all the effect he
produced.

There was a moment or two of silence, then the man continued, with
something of authority:

"I have the right to come to you, Edith--I have a right to demand that
you regard my wishes. If you are not prepared to receive me just now,
name some time when I can see you, and I will wait patiently your
pleasure; only speak and tell me that you will comply with my
request."

It was both a pretty and a striking picture behind that closed door,
if he could but have seen it--the fair girl, in her snowy robe, over
which she had slipped a pretty light blue sack, reclining upon her
elbow, her beautiful hair falling in graceful confusion about her
shoulders; her violet eyes gleaming with a look of triumph in her
advantage over the man without; her lips--into whi