t forever in
thankfulness and tears.

CHAPTER LXXIX.

RECONCILIATIONS.

Elizabeth Mellen was home again--home under her husband's roof, for ever
at home in his heart. She sat in her dressing-room. The autumnal
sunshine came through its windows, with a rich, golden warmth. A hickory
wood fire filled the room with additional cheerfulness, which was
scarcely needed, for that awful chill had left her heart for ever. A few
days of supreme happiness had given back the peach-like bloom to her
cheek and the splendor to her eyes. Full of contentment, all the
generous impulses of her character rose and swelled in her bosom, till
she longed to share her heaven with anything that was cast down or
unhappy.

The door between her room and Elsie's boudoir was open, and through it
she could hear a soft, pleading voice amid a struggle of sobs and tears.
Prompted by tender sympathy, Elizabeth half-rose from her easy-chair,
but fell back again, murmuring:

"No, no, she will best find her way to his heart alone. God help her to
be frank and truthful."

Still she listened, and her beautiful face grew anxious, for the
sternness of her husband's voice, in answer to those feeble plaints,
gave little hopes of conciliation. Directly Mellen came through the
boudoir and sat down on a couch near his wife, shading his face with one
hand, not wishing her to see how much he was disturbed. Elizabeth arose,
bent over him, and softly removed the hand from his eyes.

"For my sake, Grantley," she said, "for my sake."

Generous tears filled her eyes, pleading tenderness spoke in her voice.
Her lips, tremulous with feeling, touched his forehead.

"For my sake, Grantley."

Mellen lifted his eyes to hers--a mist, such as springs from the unshed
tears of a strong man, softened them. She fell upon her knees by his
side, laid her head upon his bosom with soft murmurs of entreaty which
no living man could have resisted.

Mellen folded her close, and touched his lips to her forehead with
tender reverence.

"For your sake, my beloved; what is there that I would not do for your
sake?"

"And this forgiveness is perfect," she questioned.

"Her fault from this hour is forgotten, sweet wife."

"It was terrible--more terrible than you dream of. When I tell you that
she had engaged herself secretly to Thomas Fuller, even your mercy may
be qualified."

Elizabeth withdrew from her husband's arms and bowed her lovely face for
a moment in sad thou