"I mean that your battle is half won. If you will explain to me one half her words, I will explain to you the other half."

"You are laughing at me," he said, wearily. "What can you explain?"

"That ridiculous girl commanded you to bestow your love upon some more worthy object; some one who was living for others; or some such words.

Whom did she mean, may I ask?"

He started up as if inspired by a new thought. "I see!" he exclaimed; "She must have meant--a very dear friend of hers."

He could not say the name that was in his thought. It would sound like egotism.

"That is sufficient," said the lady. "Now, I am going to betray Claire, as she has betrayed this other one. You foolish fellow, can't you see that the child loves you and is striving to do a Quixotic thing by giving you up to her friend? Think over her words and manner, and don't take her at her bidding. If this other, to whom Claire commands you to turn, is a true woman, she would not thank you for the offer of a preoccupied heart."

"She is a true woman," said Clarence, emphatically. "And as dear to me as a sister could be, but--"

"Then let her be a sister still," said Mrs. Ralston, quietly. "And don't lose any time in persuading Claire that she is wronging herself as well as you; and that you would be wronging still more this friend whom you both love, were you to offer her so pitiful a thing as a hand without a heart. She is a true woman, you say. If so, she would never forgive that. Believe me, Dr. Vaughan, there are even worse depths of sorrow than to have loved worthily--and lost."

Mrs. Ralston turned and went softly from the room.

For a few moments, Clarence Vaughan stood wrapped in thought. Then his face became illuminated as he said, half aloud: "What a fool I have been, that I should have so misunderstood that dear girl! Oh, I can be patient now, and bide my time."

And now his reverie was broken in upon by Olive, who entered hurriedly, saying: "Doctor Vaughan, are you here alone? I thought Claire was with you."

He made no answer to this remark, but said, as he took her proffered hand: "I ran down to tell you that I have taken the detectives off.

Jarvis is still in our pay, in case of emergency. He has sent his report to Davlin, and a scant one it was. Of course, Davlin is glad to have him withdraw; that is, if he knows, as he must, that the papers are not in Percy's hands."

"Then all depends upon Madeline now?"

"All depends upon Madeline."

"Poor Philip," sighed Olive, "what would he say if he knew that his fate rests in the hands of a mere girl?"

"If he knew of that 'mere girl' what we know, he would say that his fate could not rest in better hands. No man ever had a more efficient champion, nor one half so brave and beautiful."

They had not dared to tell Philip of the hope that was daily growing stronger in their hearts; if they failed, he should be thrust back into no gulf of black darkness because they had cheated him with a false hope.

CHAPTER XLIV.

A FRESH COMPLICATION.

On leaving so abruptly the companionship of Dr. Vaughan, Claire rushed straight to her room. Closing and locking the door, she flung herself down upon a couch and indulged in a hearty cry. She was at once happy and sorry, angry and pleased. Presently, Claire sat up and began to review things more calmly.

"What a wretched little dunce I am!" she soliloquized. "And what must he think of me! Well!" with a little sigh, "the worse his opinion of me, the better for Madeline. And here I am this minute, in spite of myself, actually rejoicing in my heart because he has not done the very thing I have resolved that he should do. But he never will know it. Neither shall any one else. I won't give him another chance to talk to me; no, not if I have to take to my heels ten times a day.

It's only right that I should give him up; I, indeed, who fancied myself in love with a white-handed, yellow-haired villain."

At this point in her meditations, some one rapped softly at her door.

"Claire, dear," said a soft voice, "open your door; I want to come in."

It was Mrs. Ralston, and Claire advanced slowly and turned the key in the lock.

"I--I thought it was somebody else," she said, hypocritically. "Come in, Mrs. Ralston."

Thus invited, the lady entered. Without making a comment on the disturbed appearance of her young friend, she crossed to the window, and sitting down in a cosy dressing-chair, said: "Come directly here, young lady, and sit down on that ottoman."

Looking somewhat surprised, the girl obeyed.

"Claire, my child, I have a confession to make. I was in the library while you sang: 'When sparrows build.'"

The girl's cheek flushed and then paled; but she made no answer.

"And," pursued Mrs. Ralston, "I heard more than your song."

No reply.

"And more than your words!"

"More than--my--my words?"

"Yes; I heard your heart's secret."

Claire's face drooped. "What do you mean?" she asked, deprecatingly.

"My darling, I mean that your heart spoke through your voice, and it belied your words. Why did you deny your love for so noble a man?"

Claire raised her head. "I didn't!" she said, suddenly, as if driven to bay.

"No," smiled Mrs. Ralston. "You were a wily little serpent. But you deceived him."

"I don't care," doggedly.

"Now you are telling a fib!"

"Well, I am not sorry, then," getting hold of her monitor's hand. "Why do you turn against poor me, when I am trying to do my duty?"

"Because you are not doing your duty."

"Yes, I am; indeed, I am. You don't know."

"Then tell me, and let me be your friend and adviser."

"But you can't advise," objected Claire, "because you don't know the--the other one."

"Well, I do know you."