ped asleep on the sofa when you awoke."

"I thought he was in anger," said she.

"Not with you, dearest."

"No, I remember now, not where it was justly due. Papa," she said,
pausing, as to recall her recollection, "what did I do? I must have done
something very unkind to make him go away and leave me."

"I insisted on his leaving you, my dear. You seemed oppressed, and his
affectionate ways were doing you harm; so I was hardhearted, and turned
him out, sadly against his will."

"Poor George!" said Flora, "has he been left to bear it alone all this
time? How much distressed he must have been. I must have vexed him
grievously. You don't guess how fond he was of her. I must go to him at
once."

"That is right, my dear."

"Don't praise me," said she, as if she could not bear it. "All that is
left for me is to do what I can for him."

Dr. May felt cheered. He was sure that hope must again rise out of
unselfish love and duty.

Their return awoke George, who started, half sitting up, wondering why
he was spending the night in so unusual a manner, and why Flora looked
so pale, in the morning light, with her loosened, drooping hair.

She went straight to him, and, kneeling by his side, said, "George,
forgive!" The same moment he had caught her to his bosom; but so
impressed was his tardy mind with the peril of talking to her, that he
held her in his arms without a single word, till Dr. May had unclosed
his lips--a sign would not suffice--he must have a sentence to assure
him; and then it was such joy to have her restored, and his fondness
and solicitude were so tender and eager in their clumsiness, that his
father-in-law was touched to the heart.

Flora was quite herself again, in presence of mind and power of dealing
with him; and Dr. May left them to each other, and went to his own room,
for such rest as sorrow, sympathy, and the wakening city, would permit
him.

When the house was astir in the morning, and the doctor had met Meta in
the breakfast-room, and held with her a sad, affectionate conversation,
George came down with a fair report of his wife, and took her father to
see her.

That night had been like an illness to her, and, though perfectly
composed, she was feeble and crushed, keeping the room darkened, and
reluctant to move or speak. Indeed, she did not seem able to give her
attention to any one's voice, except her husband's. When Dr. May, or
Meta, spoke to her, she would miss what they said, beg th