o Jack. "But for her, Sylvie would have been in
despair,"--looking furtively at the broad, slightly bowed figure.

"Poor Sylvie!" he murmured, "poor Sylvie!"

Fred turned to the door, compressing his lips over a throb of anguish.

"Of course," began Maverick, "they must all be removed as soon as
possible. I think it would be well for Mrs. Lawrence and her daughter to
go to-morrow. Neither is strong enough to bear any prolonged strain."

"Yes." Fred's heart swelled within him. They were all to be thrust aside
as quickly as possible. This was Sylvie's sorrow--sacred to her and
Jack.

He went to his mother's room. She was lying on a couch, and was still
hysterical. From her he heard the story; and though, as ever, she was
selfishly alive to her own sufferings, she evinced an almost motherly
tenderness in her sympathy for Sylvie.

Fred spoke of the return. If it could be to-morrow; if he could settle
them in their own home, and go quite away for a while! he thought.

"And leave Sylvie here alone?" said his mother reproachfully.

"I do not know what you can do for--for Miss Barry." How studiously cold
and calm the tone was! "The doctor wishes to remove her as speedily as
possible. I thought we would be out of the way, at least."

"It _is_ terrible here; and if you considered it quite right--the summer
is so nearly ended, and the nights are growing cool,--yes, we might
go."

They settled it over their quiet supper. "Miss Barry was comfortable,"
Martha said, "and Miss Sylvie was lying down."

Mrs. Lawrence retired early, her nerves were so shattered by the
terrible incident. Irene had disappeared; and, when Fred could stand his
loneliness no longer, he went to walk upon the beach.

It was a moonless night, but with an intensely blue sky that gave the
Milky Way the appearance of a luminous trail across the heavens. The
murmur of the waves seemed sad and softened, and they touched the heart
of the man who paced beside them. Once he had held so much in his hands!
Surely he could have won the love of this woman then. Oh the blind,
insensate, idiotic folly! He could have thrust his own soul down here on
the sand, and trampled the very life out of it!

Hark! some one was coming with hasty strides. With the wild instinct of
a wounded animal he turned to flee, and yet--whither should he go?

The hand was on his shoulder. The well-known voice uttered his name, and
he turned at bay.

"Sylvie"--

"Don't repeat her name