As he passed through the hall, Mrs. Ralston awaited him with her hand upon the door.

Vallero stopped beside her, incoherently muttering oath upon oath.

"That damned Bourdalone is to blame for Truth's visionary ideas. I'll make him suffer for it. I'll hound him to the end of the world - revenge is sweet. Fools - the whole pack of you."

With a mocking laugh he banged the door and disappeared from sight.

Mrs. Ralston seemed frozen to the spot. Vallero's last words would haunt her to her dying day - no one will ever know what they were. - At last, surviving the shock, she thought of what might have happened to Truth. Quickly she ran up stairs to where her daughter sat like a marble statue.

"My darling child," cried Mrs. Ralston, "how frightful you look - poor little girl - how did you stand this terrible ordeal?"

"It is the last one, mother." "Come, sighed Truth faintly, let us now thank God for my release."

Mrs. Ralston knelt down beside the drooping figure and buried her face in her lap.

The morning was delightful.

Truth Ralston strolled into the garden and deeply breathed in the glorious air that greeted her. It was the first time since her illness that she had been out of doors. The garden seemed a veritable paradise. A profusion of fragrant flowers were bedded around the fountain, where in the rainbow mist, a score of feathered songsters were preening themselves; dipping their heads in the flashing spray to duck them among their feathers, until at length, the wonderful toilet complete, they flew upward into the trees with a burst of lilting song.

Truth threw her arm along the back of the rustic seat upon which she rested. Her large blue eyes looked sad and mournful. A sigh escaped her lips as she thought of the care-free birds, whose joyous song grew plaintive in her ears. The murmur of the trees whispered of disappointed affections. The air oppressed her, its very clearness mocking the longing of her heart. How long she sat in her soulful meditation she knew not. Oblivious to time and her surroundings she was unconscious of some one standing, under the rose tree, surveying her in silent admiration. As the watcher moved slowly towards her, the footsteps upon the gravel walk startled Truth from her reverie. As if suddenly awakened from a dream she raised her head and turned as if to go.

"Why" - she exclaimed, "You surprise me! I thought it was mother," - "I'm so glad to see you," she stammered in confusion.

The sincerity of welcome reflected itself in the expression of Adoni Bourdalone's face. He clasped both of her hands heartily, his pleasing apology for intrusion thrilled her with delight.

"I told your mother I would call this afternoon but found it impossible. As I was very anxious to see the sick girl, I ventured to come this morning, but instead of finding an invalid confined to her bed, I am greeted by a radiant young goddess of health, who must offer now in turn an explanation of her marvelous recovery."

"But I was really ill," protested Truth laughingly.

"I do not doubt it in the least," replied Adoni with an unmistakable twinkle in his eyes. "Dr. Graham is certainly a wonderful doctor."

"Dr. Graham does not deserve all of the credit," defended Truth sweetly. "I claim part of it myself."

"And what part do you claim?"

"Do you remember, how on the morning after my wedding - when you left me - you asked me always to keep my face towards the sun?"

"Yes, I remember very well."

"Although," continued Truth sadly, "dark, heavy clouds obscured the sun from my view, I looked in one direction and saw underneath the clouds, their silver linings."

"How wisely you are learning the lessons of life. Since last I saw you in that great battle, in which your soul won its victory, many sad experiences have come into my life also------."

"Your mother - I'm so sorry," interrupted Truth with a sigh, a flush of perplexed thoughts deepening the color in her cheeks. "Was it sudden - unexpected?"

"Not altogether. Sister Martha and I had expected it for some time, for she was so eager to join my father, and the longing of her heart and soul's desire, hastened her departure. Knowing this we look upon her going as the happiest event in her life. She has looked forward to it like one anticipating a delightful journey to some far clime where a great love awaited her coming."

"How wonderfully grand it is for you to believe this."

"I do not only believe it - I know it. Although Martha and I shall miss her sweet companionship, we know that our loss is our dear mother's gain."

"If one could only apply this sentiment in all our losses, then the loss to the parishioners of St. Paul's will be your gain."

Adoni looked pleased.

"Thank you, Miss Ralston - your thought is very encouraging, conveying that it has not destroyed your faith in me."

"No power on earth would be able to do that," exclaimed Truth earnestly, "but I must confess an absorbing curiosity to know just what your religious views are. Tour sermon of last Sunday contained such a wonderful mixture, that one can scarcely tell what you do believe yourself."

Adoni smiled as he contemplated her words.

"Come, let us sit down. I have much to tell you in regard to my plans for the future. It may be some time before we shall be able to enjoy another visit with each other."

Saying this, Adoni led Truth gently to the bench she had vacated. Being seated Truth queried timidly: "Do you expect to go away from here?"

"Yes, I shall be ready to sail next week."

"So soon?" A look of disappointment shadowed Truth's face. "You will join Mrs. Bourd-alone?"

Adoni shook his head. "No, I shall not join Frances ever again."

His voice, grave and compassionate, filled Truth's heart with sadness and regret for her, perhaps, indiscreet question, which was apparently painful to Adoni as he continued slowly: