one, for Mrs Lane had gone out softly directly he had entered. Then
sitting down, the note which he had received fell from his pocket, and
lay half beneath the couch.

"You are not angry with me for sending for you?" said the girl,
piteously. "Why do you frown?"

"Did I frown?" he said, gently. "It was only a passing thought. There,
now, let's have a quiet, long chat."

"Yes," she said, eagerly. "I want to thank you for being so kind to
us--for the fruit and flowers, and all you have done for mamma. As for
me," she continued, laying her hand in his, "I shall be so ungrateful."

"No, no, I cannot believe that."

"Yes," she said, smiling, "you have done so much to make me well, and in
return I shall die."

"My dear child, you must not talk like this," exclaimed Richard, with an
involuntary shiver. "You must get well and strong again."

She shook her head sadly, and then lay gazing up into his eyes.

"Netta," he said, gently, "you have thought a great deal about me since
you have been ill."

"Yes--oh yes," she said.

"Looking back, then, do you blame me--do you think I was cruel, and led
you on to think I loved you?"

"No," she said, and her hand closed almost convulsively on his. "I
don't think so now. I have thought it all over, and it was my folly and
weakness. I seem to have grown old since then, and to have become so
much wiser. That's all past now; but I want you to tell me, first, that
you did not think me forward then, and strange."

"My child," said Richard, "I have felt that the blame has been on my
side, and it has caused me many a pang."

"But it is all past now," said Netta, eagerly. "I know--I can see
plainly enough. You knew better how ill I was than I did, and pitied
and were very sorry for me; and it seemed so sweet to me that--that I
could not help watching for you--feeling glad when you came. But that's
all past now, and you said we could be friends."

"Indeed, yes," he said, gazing into the great, brilliant eyes; but in a
sad, dreamy way, for he could read but too plainly the coming end.

"And you forgive me--quite forgive me?" she murmured.

"My poor child, I have nothing to forgive," he said, leaning over and
kissing her forehead.

"Thank you," she murmured, closing her eyes; and she lay silent for a
few moments. Then, brightening, she said, "Now tell me again about
her."

He remained silent, and she repeated her request--almost impatiently.

"Tell me her name."