room.

Mrs. Googe seemed not to have lost consciousness, for as Hannah bent
over her she noticed that her eyelids quivered.

"She's all wore out, poor dear, that's what's the matter," said Hannah,
raising her to a sitting position; she passed her hand tenderly over the
dark hair.

Aileen came running down stairs bringing salts and cologne. Hannah
bathed her forehead and chafed her wrists.

In a few minutes the white lips quivered, the eyes opened; she made an
effort to rise. Octavius helped her to her feet; but for Aileen's arm
around her she would have fallen again.

"Take me home, Tave." She spoke in a weak voice.

"I will, Aurora," he answered promptly, soothingly, although his hands
trembled as he led her to a sofa; "I'll just hitch up the pair in the
carryall and Hannah'll ride up with us, won't you, Hannah?"

"To be sure, to be sure. Don't you grieve yourself to death, Mis'
Googe," she said tenderly.

"Don't wait to harness into the carryall, Tave--take me now--in the
trap--take me away from here. I don't need you, Hannah. I didn't know I
was so weak--the air will make me feel better; give me my cloak,
Aileen."

The girl wrapped her in it, adjusted the burnous, that had fallen from
her head, and went with her to the door. Aurora turned and looked at
her. The girl's heart was nigh to bursting. Impulsively she threw her
arms around the woman's neck and whispered: "If you need me, do send for
me--I'll come."

But Aurora Googe went forth from Champ-au-Haut without a word either to
the girl, to Hannah, or to Octavius Buzzby.

* * * * *

For the first two miles they drove in silence. The night was clear but
cold, the ground frozen hard; a northwest wind roared in the pines along
the highroad and bent the bare treetops on the mountain side. From time
to time Octavius heard the woman beside him sigh heavily as from
physical exhaustion. When, at last, he felt that she was shivering, he
spoke:

"Are you cold, Aurora? I've got something extra under the seat."

"No, I'm not cold; I feel burning up."

He turned to look at her face in the glare of an electric light they
were passing. It was true; the rigor was that of increasing fever; her
cheeks were scarlet.

"I wish you'd have let me telephone for the doctor; I don't feel right
not to leave you in his hands to-night, and Ellen hasn't got any head on
her."

"No--no; I don't need him; he couldn't do me any good--nobody
ca