weight. Resting it against his knee, he pulled the door-bell
gently, and waited.

"Is that you, Mr. Lawrence?" asked a voice from within.

"No. Jack Darcy," for he guessed rightly that it was Martha.

She opened the door.

"Don't be frightened, Martha," in a re-assuring tone. "It is Miss
Lawrence."

"Oh, good heaven!" in tones of terror.

"Hush! do not disturb any one. Is Mr. Lawrence home? Where shall I carry
her? she is in a dead faint."

"Bring her in the parlor. Oh, Mr. Darcy! where was she?" with a look of
wild affright. "I did not know she had gone out. I always felt something
would happen to her; and a long while ago I offered to go out with her,
but she is so hard and disdainful that one soon comes to letting her
alone. She made me promise not to tell her brother, or rather she defied
me to: she wouldn't put any thing as a favor if she was dying. Talk
about the pride of Lucifer! And I knew it would worry Mr. Lawrence
dreadfully."

"Was she in the habit of going out--alone--at night?" asked Jack, in
amaze.

"I think it was from pride," answered Martha simply. "You see, she
needed some exercise, and she seldom went out in the daytime. And I
don't think she is afraid of any thing. I never saw such a cold, bitter,
strong girl--for she is only a girl yet. I've sometimes felt afraid she
would do something desperate. Oh, if she would only let the Lord help
her bear her trouble! And Mr. Lawrence is so kind and generous! He would
do any thing for her. Oh, he ought to be home! There's the clock
striking ten."

"And I must run for the doctor. Heaven grant she may not be dead! Take
off her cloak, and try something"--glancing about in alarm.

Then he seemed to take one devouring look at the sculptured face, with
closed lids, and jetty lashes sweeping the marble cheeks. Hurrying away,
as if by some great effort, he ran down the street again, despatched
Maverick, and hastened to Fred's office. The building loomed up dark and
silent. He might possibly be at Garafield's house: he often went there
of an evening, he and Mr. Garafield were so engrossed with their plans.

It was a long walk; but Jack strode on, getting rapidly over the ground.
The hall-door was open, and Mr. and Mrs. Garafield were saying
good-night to Fred. Jack waited until he came down the steps, and then
called to him cheerfully. They linked arm-in-arm. The hail and rain had
turned now to fine, hard snow, and the wind seemed to scurry through the