linging to her.

"I will go," she faltered, "I will go. He must not know I have been
here. You--you will not tell him?"

"No, I shall not tell him," answered the Vicomtesse.

"And--you will send word to me, Helene?"

"Yes, dear."

Antoinette kissed her, and began to adjust her veil mechanically. I
looked on, bewildered by the workings of the feminine mind. Why was she
going? The Vicomtesse gave me no hint. But suddenly the girl's arms fell
to her sides, and she stood staring, not so much as a cry escaping her.
The bedroom doors had been opened, and between them was the tall figure
of Nicholas Temple. So they met again after many years, and she who had
parted them had brought them together once more. He came a step into
the room, as though her eyes had drawn him so far. Even then he did not
speak her name.

"Go," he said. "Go, you must not stay here. Go!"

She bowed her head.

"I was going," she answered. "I--I am going."

"But you must go at once," he cried excitedly. "Do you know what is in
there?" and he pointed towards the bedroom.

"Yes, yes, I know," she said, "I know."

"Then go," he cried. "As it is you have risked too much."

She lifted up her head and looked at him. There was a new-born note in
her voice, a tremulous note of joy in the midst of sorrow. It was of her
he was thinking!

"And you?" she said. "You have come and remained."

"She is my mother," he answered. "God knows it was the least I could
have done."

Twice she had changed before our eyes, and now we beheld a new and yet
more startling transformation. When she spoke there was no reproach in
her voice, but triumph. Antoinette undid her veil.

"Yes, she is your mother," she answered; "but for many years she has
been my friend. I will go to her. She cannot forbid me now. Helene has
been with her," she said, turning to where the Vicomtesse stood watching
her intently. "Helene has been with her. And shall I, who have longed to
see her these many years, leave her now?"

"But you were going!" he cried, beside himself with apprehension at this
new turning. "You told me that you were going."

Truly, man is born without perception.

"Yes, I told you that," she replied almost defiantly.

"And why were you going?" he demanded. Then I had a sudden desire to
shake him.

Antoinette was mute.

"You yourself must find the answer to that question, Mr. Temple," said
the Vicomtesse, quietly.

He turned and stared at Helene, and she seem