full and permeate every farthest nook and corner of the house, stopped her. It was Helga singing a quaint and stirring old ballad. “Where there is no place For the glow-worm to lie, Where there is no space For receipt of a fly; Where the midge dare not venture Lest herself fast she lay, If Love come he will enter And will find out the way.” “Heavens!” exclaimed Dick Colton. “What a voice! Who is it?” “Haven’t you heard Helga sing?” said Dolly Ravenden, in surprise. “Isn’t it superb!” Everard had risen and was looking hungrily toward the door. Dolly looked keenly at him, and saw in his face a look that she had seen in many a man’s eyes, but that no woman but one had ever before seen in Everard Colton’s. “It is true,” she said to herself. The voice went on: “There is no striving To cross his intent, There is no contriving His plots to prevent; For if once the message greet him That his true-love doth stay, Though Death come forth to meet him, Love will find out the way.” The soft, deep, triumphant final note died away. There was a moment’s silence. “Dick, you ought to have told me,” said Everard, unsteadily. But Dick paid no heed. He was looking at Haynes, upon whose cold and rather hard-lined face was such an expression of loving pride and yearning, as utterly transfigured it. “I ought to be kicked for bringing Everard down here,” thought the gentle-hearted young doctor. The door opened and Helga entered. As if drawn magnetically, her gaze went straight to Everard Colton. She stopped short. “Helga!” said he. The girl caught her breath sharply. Her hand fluttered toward her breast, and fell again. Her colour faded; but instantly she was mistress of herself. “Good-evening, Mr. Colton,” she said quietly, and gave him her hand as she came forward. “Did you come in this evening? It always is wiser to write ahead for rooms.” “I don’t understand,” he stammered. “Are you—do you live here?” “This is my father’s hotel,” she explained. “Father, this is Mr. Everard Colton. Is there a room for
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