it would make matters worse. Nobody is likely to come till
uncle leaves the library. Water. Throw those flowers out of that great
glass bowl."

Guest obeyed, and bore the great iridescent vessel, from which he had
tossed some orchids, to her side.

"That's right. Hold it closer. Poor darling! My dearest Myra, what
have you done to have to suffer all this terrible pain?"

There were drops other than the cold ones to besprinkle the white face
Edie had lifted into her lap, as she sat on the floor, bending down from
time to time to kiss the marble forehead and contracted eyelids as she
spoke.

"Percy, dear," she said, as he knelt by her, helpful, but, in spite of
the trouble, full of mute worship for the clever little body before him.

His eyes met hers, and flashed their delight, as the second word seemed
to clinch others which she had spoken that night.

"This is all a secret. Even uncle must not know yet till we have had a
long talk with aunt. She can be quite like a lawyer in giving advice."

"But, Edie!"

"No, no; we can have no hesitation. What I say is right. I'm very fond
of Malcolm Stratton; and, if he has done this dreadful thing, his
punishment must not come through us."

"You're a little Queen of Sheba," he whispered passionately.

"Hush! That's not behaving like Solomon. Be wise, please. O Myra,
Myra! Stop; there are some salts on the chimney-piece in the front
room. No, no; stay! She is coming to."

For Myra turned her head slightly on one side, and muttered a few
incoherent words in a low, weary tone; and at last opened her eyes to
let them rest on Guest's face as he knelt by her.

There was no recognition for a few moments, as she lay back, gazing
dreamily at him. Then thought resumed its power in her brain, and her
face was convulsed by a spasm.

Starting up, she caught his arm.

"Is it all true?" she cried, in a low, husky whisper.

Guest gave her a pitying, appealing look, but he did not speak.

"Yes, it must be true," she said, as she rose to her feet, and stood
supporting herself by Guest's arm, while Edie held her hand. "You have
not told anyone?" she said eagerly.

"No; I came here as soon as I knew."

"Where is Mr Stratton?"

"At his chambers."

"And you, his friend, have left him at such a time?"

"It was at his wish," said Guest gently; "his secret is safe with me."

"Yes. He trusts you. I trust you. Percy Guest, Edie, even if he is
guilty, he must