ng eyes, enlarged by feebleness, went to his very heart.
Fortunately he did not in any way connect this enfeebled state with the
phenomenon up-stairs, which was best for all parties. He hurried up to
her, taking her thin hands into his own.

"Elinor! my poor little Nelly--can this be you!"

The water that was in her eyes rolled over in two great tears; a brief
convulsion went over her face. "Yes, John," she said, almost in a
whisper. "Strange as it may seem, this is all that is left of me."

He sat down beside her and for a moment neither of them spoke. Pity,
tenderness, wrath, surged up together in John's breast; pity, tender
compassion, most strong of all. Poor little thing; this was how she had
come back to her home; her heart broken, her wings broken, as it were;
all her soaring and swiftness and energy gone. He could scarcely look
upon her for the pity that overflowed his heart. But underneath lay
wrath, not only against the man who had brought her to such a pass, but
against herself too.

"John," she said, after a while, "do you remember saying to me that I
was not one to bear, to put up with things, to take the consequences if
I tried a dangerous experiment and failed?"

"Did I ever say anything so silly and so cruel?"

"Oh, no, no; it was neither silly nor unkind, but quite, quite true. I
have thought of it so often. I used to think of it to stir up my pride,
to remind myself that I ought to try to be better than my nature, not to
allow you to be a true prophet. But it was so, and I couldn't change it.
You can see you were right, John, for I have not been like a strong
woman, able to endure; I have only been able to run away."

"My poor little Nelly!"

"Don't pity me," she said, the tears running over again. "I am too well
off; I am too well taken care of. A prodigal should not be made so much
of as I am."

"Don't call yourself a prodigal, Nelly! Perhaps things may not be as bad
as they appear. At least, it is but the first fall--the greatest athlete
gets many before he can stand against the world."

"I'll never be an athlete, John. Besides, I'm a woman, you know, and a
fall of any kind is fatal to a woman, especially anything of this kind.
No, I know very well it's all over; I shall never hold up my head again.
But that's not the question--the question is, to be safe and as free as
can be. Mamma takes me in, you know, just as if nothing had happened.
She is quite willing to take the burden of me on h