a fact, passed into a perfect passion of self-abnegation, thinking, in the brief pause that followed Faith's departure—
"This is the change we see in him; this made him watch me, hoping I had forgotten, as I once said and believed. I should be glad, I will be glad, and let him see that even while I suffer I can rejoice in that which helps us both."
Full of her generous purpose, yet half doubtful how to execute it, Sylvia stepped from the recess where she had stood, and slowly passed toward Warwick, apparently intent on settling her fruity burden as she went. At the first sound of her light step on the gravel he turned, feeling at once that she must have heard, and eager to learn what significance that short dialogue possessed for her. Only a hasty glance did she give him as she came, but it showed him flushed cheeks, excited eyes, and lips a little tremulous as they said—
"These are for Faith; will you hold the basket while I cover it with leaves?"
He took it, and as the first green covering was deftly laid, he asked, below his breath—
"Sylvia, did you hear us?"
To his unutterable amazement she looked up clearly, and all her heart was in her voice, as she answered with a fervency he could not doubt—
"Yes; and I was glad to hear, to know that a nobler woman filled the place I cannot fill. Oh, believe it, Adam; and be sure that the knowledge of your great content will lighten the terrible regret which you have seen as nothing else ever could have done."
Down fell the basket at their feet, and taking her face between his hands, Warwick bent and searched with a glance
