weak. Will you let me
drive you now to your home?"

For a few moments Mrs. Hart looked at him piteously, and made no
reply.

"I think it will be better for you to go home in my carriage," said
Obed, gently urging her.

She still looked at him with the same piteousness.

"In what part of the city do you live?" said Obed, as he took her
hand and drew it inside his arm. "Come, let me lead you to the
carriage."

Mrs. Hart held back for a moment, and again looked at him.

"_I have no home_," she said, in a voice which had died away to a
whisper.

At once the truth flashed upon Obed's mind.

"I have no home," continued Mrs. Hart. "I was turned out yesterday.
Last night I slept in the Boboli Gardens. For two days I have had
nothing to eat."

Obed Chute staggered back as though he hail received a violent blow.
"O God!" he groaned, "has it come to this?"

He said not another word, but gently led Mrs. Hart to the brougham.
He drove to a cafe first, and persuaded her to take some nourishment.
Then he took her once more into the carriage, and they drove slowly
out of the city.

CHAPTER LXXIV.

BEWILDERMENT.

Scarcely any thing was said on the drive out from Florence to the
villa. Tears fell frequently from the eyes of the poor wanderer as
she sat wrapped in deep thought. Obed sat in silence, looking out of
the window upon vacancy, seeing nothing; or, rather, seeing still
that face with its wan lips and ghastly outline, which had told so
thrilling a story of homelessness and starvation. His thoughts were
going back through the years--the long-vanished years. And as he
thought there came over his rugged face an infinite pity and
tenderness; from his eyes there beamed sadness and compassion
unutterable. He kept silence thus, all that drive, because he could
not trust himself to speak.

It was only when they reached the gateway of the villa that he opened
his lips. Then, as they drove through, he turned toward her, and
putting his hand on her arm, he said:

"Here is your home now--while you live."

"Oh, my friend!" murmured Mrs. Hart; and she could say no more.

On reaching the door Obed assisted Mrs. Hart out of the brougham, and
they entered the hall. There were sounds of voices in the
drawing-room, and on crossing the threshold of the villa a
gentleman's voice arose in a cheerful and sprightly tone:

"Checkmated again! Really, Miss Lorton, after this you'll have to
give me the odds of a pawn; you