am sending this to say that if you wish to come to see me, you will find me at home to you."
He received this just before he left for Itanaca on Saturday and he carried it with him, so he had it when he returned on Sunday evening. From the station where, in August, he had called her number by mistake, he called it deliberately and asked for her and inquired, "Is it too late to see you to-night?"
She replied: "Come, David."
He felt choked by contending emotions, as he was admitted to the house. Here in this wide, handsome hall he had first come as an awkward, bashful freshman, fearing wealth and ease; here he had gained power over this girl so that her father had come to fear him; here he had returned when he was casting off Alice for Fidelia; here he was, himself cast off by Fidelia, seeking Alice again.
She looked as she used to; but instead of approaching him as she had when, upon entering and finding her alone, he used to seize her and kiss her, she was standing away from him. She was paler a little, just now. She was in a soft, white silk dress showing something of her throat, and her arms were half bare, her slender, pretty arms.
"I got your letter," he said. "It's like you to send it. I've wanted to come—awfully. I'd have called you yesterday but I was just going home; to Itanaca, I mean."
"Yes; that night you told me your mother had been sick. But surely she's all right now."
David did not reply. He glanced toward a room
