Now that the full light fell upon her, he saw how terribly Therese had changed since he had last seen her. Her face had paled to the color of alabaster, and her sombre eyes were sunken and hollow. The warmth of the fire, the effect of the food and wine of which Sara Harden urged her to partake, soon brought a shade of color to her cheek; and half an hour after her entrance into that cheerful room the girl's eyes had lost the wild expression which made her look more like a hunted animal than a human being. Philip felt that he had best leave her alone with the tender-hearted lady; and so, warning her that she must be ready for him at daylight, he left the house.
For an hour he had not thought of himself. Now that he was alone again, his trouble settled down upon him like a heavy pall. Yet his spirit did not quail under it. Strength had come to him, and he had manfully shouldered the burden of grief laid upon him. He reached his room and sat down to think what he had best do with Therese, what he could do for himself. The events of the day came back to him, and he reviewed them coolly and dispassionately, as if he had been but an on-looker of his own grief and madness. He recalled every incident, from the moment when he had left the hospital to that which saw him sitting in the gray morning twi-
