f them except Judge Colton. He used to stay at our house when
he held court. He lived up in Frederick County--a thin, solemn-looking
man, with white hair. He's dead now."

Gregg's fingers tightened convulsively. "Judge Colton dead! Are you
sure?"

"Yes--died the week I left home. Father went up to his funeral. He
rode in the carriage with Mrs. Colton, he told us when he came home.
They're pretty poor up there, too; the Judge lost all his money, I
heard."

Gregg paid for his coffee, rose from his seat, shook hands with the
boy, gave him his name and address in case he ever wanted advice or
help and continued his walk under the trees overlooking the river. The
news had come to him out of the sky, and in a way that partook almost
of the supernatural. There was no doubt in his mind of the truth. The
boy's Southern accent and his description of the man who ten years
before had denounced Olivia and himself, was confirmation enough.

As he forged along, elbowing his way among the throng that crowded the
sidewalk, the scene in the garret the night he parted from Olivia took
possession of him--the one scene in all their past relation on which
he never allowed himself to dwell. He recalled the tones of her voice,
the outline of her figure crouching at his knees, the squares of
moonlight illumining the floor and the room, and now once again he
listened to the story she had poured into his ears that fatal night.

By the time he had reached his studio his mind was made up. Olivia was
in trouble, perhaps in want. In the conditions about her she must be
threatened by many dangers and must suffer many privations. The old
ungovernable longing again gripped him, and with renewed force.

What was there in life but love? he said to himself. What else
counted? What were his triumphs, his honors, his position among his
brother painters, his welcome among his equals, compared to the love
of this woman? What happiness had they brought him? Then his mind
reverted to his past life. How hungry had he been for the touch of a
hand, the caress of a cheek, the whispered talk into responsive ears.
No! there was nothing--nothing but love! Everything else was but the
ashes of a bitter fruit.

He must see Olivia, and at once; the long wait was over now. What her
attitude of mind might be made no difference, or what her feeling
towards him for deserting her on that terrible night. To-day she was
unprotected, perhaps in want. To help her was a matt