Truth Ralston Vallero lay restless upon her bed. Her body at last had rebelled against the overstrained nervous tension to which it had been subjected and nature demanded redress for the violation of her laws.

Mrs. Ralston, thoroughly alarmed at her daughter's condition of mind, summoned Dr. Graham, the old family physician, taking him wisely into her confidence, relating the unusual and tragic incidents connected with Truth's illness.

The doctor had known her from birth, had officiated at that event; knew also the nature of Clarence Vallero, and his keen professional intuition was not long in arriving at a correct diagnosis of the case.

After testing her pulse he sat for some time in thoughtful meditation, then turned to Mrs. Ralston and addressed her with compassionate assurance.

"Truth is not physically ill, although she may become so if her mind is not kept perfectly at ease, free from the destructive influence of her husband, who she must not see for a few days at least. Allow no visitors whatever; nothing must annoy her; after that we will be guided by the inclination of our patient."

Truth turned her eyes with an appealing look of gratitude upon the doctor, as he smoothed her brow with fatherly tenderness. He smiled reassuringly and with a warm hand clasp departed, followed by Mrs. Ralston.

Truth experienced a great relief at the doctor's instructions; she was to be left alone, something she desired most of all. Exhausted in body and mind - she did not even care to think - she murmured with feeble listlessness to the nurse seated beside the bed:

"Will you kindly leave me alone for a while? I believe I shall be able to sleep now; I - I feel very, very tired." The nurse nodded pleasantly and left the room.

Alone in the cool shadows of her own room, withdrawn from the world within the silence of her own soul, she lay quiet and peaceful and was soon lost in a dreamless sleep. The nurse reentered, noiselessly smoothed the ruffled bedclothes, lowered the shades, then sought Mrs. Ralston, saying: "Madam, your daughter is sleeping soundly, the doctor assures us that if her slumber is not disturbed all danger of a serious illness will be averted."

"Very well, nurse, I shall see to it that everything is kept perfectly quiet."

After leaving the orders with the servants, Mrs. Ralston entered the library, sat down at her desk, took pen and ink and formulated a diplomatic message to Vallero, which read as follows:

"Clarence, Truth is seriously ill; no one is permitted in the sick room except the nurse. The telephone is silenced and the house kept in quietness. Needless to tell you how much I regret this unfortunate affair. Truth's illness will account for what might otherwise occasion unfavorable comment. I trust to your discretion, in refraining from anything that might arouse suspicion of the curious. To avoid gossip it may be well for you to call at the house. If convenient, come tomorrow afternoon.

This she dispatched with a messenger, who returned within a short time with a brief reply: "Expect me tomorrow at three. C. V."

The following morning Truth awakened from a trance-like sleep; the clouds from her mental horizon had vanished. She could think clearly and her past life, like a panorama 'of shifting scenes, fleeted vividly across her vision. With horror she looked upon her wedding day. A bride, misled to the altar of man-made laws, bound to one she did not love; the escape from his lustful passion; the flight from his mansion into the stormy night; her refuge and appeal to her mother; the tragic conflict between two warring wills; then at last the voice of Adoni thrilling into action her ebbing will, flooding with an inrushing force her whole being, breaking the clutches around her heart, with which Clarence Vallero held her spell-bound during the service.

Truth's thoughts ran in a groove of mystery. What was this strange power these two men possessed and employed with such opposite effects? One filling her heart with magic love, the other with ghastly fear. How masterfully Adoni had commanded her soul's release from the bonds in which Clarence Vallero held it. Truth realized her freedom with a heart full of gratitude for Adoni Bourdalone. How and what could she do to ever repay him for saving her life from destruction?

Suddenly she recalled those deep engraven words: 'Keep your face resolutely to the sun,' said he. "I am happy to help you as sometime I want you to help me." These simple words filled her heart with holy aspiration and she felt a thrill of life-giving energy pulsate through every fibre of her being. His wish revived her parching soul out of a hopeless existence and awakened it to a new life which had heretofore been so useless.

At first her blindness made her dependent when she had regained her sight; her mother had persisted in the habit of thinking for her and her influence was partly due to her hasty marriage with Vallero. A thrill of pain seized her at the thought of what he would do if she left him; somehow she no longer feared him. A slight tap on the door broke her soliloquy and a dear, familiar voice called softly:

"Truth, are you awake? It is I, Faith, who must come to you for just a minute - dare I?"

"Yes, darling, come, I have longed so much to see you."

Faith hastily groped her way to the bedside, where two loving arms embraced her passionately.

"You poor, dear girl," cried Faith bitterly. "How you must have suffered." She felt of Truth's tear-stained face, then sobbed as though her heart would break.

"How did you know Faith, that I was at home?" "I just felt dear, that something was wrong, for last night I had a dream in which I saw your face. You know, sweetheart, that I could never imagine what a face looked like before, and as I gazed at it in speechless bewilderment, your voice called my name, and asked me to help you find the way home - to mother. I took your trembling hand, and led you through a stormy night, I knew not where, - for everything seemed so wonderfully strange, that terribly frightened, I awakened. When I told your mother the experience of my dream, or vision, she related briefly, all that had happened. I know now, what you wished to have me realize on the morning of your wedding, - that you did not love Clarence, as a wife should love a husband. I was blind both ways, and could not understand what you meant. Tell me now, dearie, for you know my love and sympathy are all given to you, and you will feel a great relief to unburden your sorrow to me."