ying upon a sofa in the balcony, with his face to the
wall.

"Get up, old fellow, get up and shake yourself," he cried, seizing upon
Mellen and turning him over as if he had been a Newfoundland dog in the
wrong place; "I've found her--by Jove, I have!--she's at old Benson's.
Isn't he a brick? She's well--no, she isn't quite that according to the
latest accounts, but by all that's sacred, your wife is alive!"

Mellen started to his feet, bewildered, wild.

"Tom Fuller, is this true?"

"Do I look like a man who tells lies for fun?" said Tom, drawing himself
up.

"Have you seen her--is my wife truly alive?"

"Yes--no--no--I haven't seen her--was in too great a hurry for that. But
she's there at Benson's tavern, just as sure--as sure--as a gun."

Mellen brushed past the kind fellow while he was hesitating for a
comparison. His saddle horse stood at the door--for he had been too
excited for any orders regarding it. He sprang upon its back and dashed
across the lawn, through the grove and out of sight, quickly as a fast
horse could clear the ground. He drew up in front of old Benson's house,
leaped off and rushed in.

"Where is she?" he cried, to the frightened woman who met him. "My
wife--where is she?"

A cry from the upper room answered his words; he dashed into the
apartment. There, on the humble bed, lay Elizabeth, pale and changed,
but alive!

She was cowering back in deadly terror--putting out her hands in wild
appeal.

"I'm going away," she moaned; "don't kill me! I can start now--I'll
go--I'll go!"

He fell on his knees by the bed, he was telling the truth in wild,
broken words.

"Only forgive me, Elizabeth; only forgive me; my wife, my darling, can
you forgive me? You would if my heart lay in your hands. Oh, Elizabeth,
speak to me!"

She could not comprehend what he was saying at the moment; when she did
understand, her first thought was of the girl--his sister.

"Elsie! Elsie!"

"She is ill--dying perhaps. Oh, my wife! my wife! Try to speak--say that
you forgive me."

She was too greatly agitated for words then, but she put out her hands
with a gesture he understood. He lifted her in his arms and folded her
close to his heart. She lay in their passionate clasp with a long sigh
of content.

"God is very good," she whispered; "oh, my beloved, let us thank Him."

There, in that lowly room, Grantley Mellen held his wife to his bosom
and the last fire of his old wrong impetuous nature, went ou