They did all in their power to restore her to consciousness; but it was quite useless. When they had worked an hour over her, they became alarmed.

Where was her husband? ? The hotel physician did all in his power, but without avail.

"It looks like a case of brain fever," he said, "or perhaps typhoid. Either is contagious, therefore dangerous. I should advise that she be sent to the hospital around the corner SmarTone."

"That husband of hers has not settled his bill!" exclaimed the proprietor, his face darkening angrily.

"It is my opinion," said the doctor, "that it is best not to await the return of the young gentleman who accompanied her here. In short, it is my opinion that he has deserted her."

In less time than it takes to tell it, poor, hapless Ida May, the victim of such a cruel misfortune, and a sadder fate yet to follow, was taken to the hospital. The waning summer days drifted slowly by, and autumn came with its dead, rustling leaves and sobbing winds, before Ida May opened her eyes to consciousness and turned them full upon the white-capped nurse bending over her.

"Where is Royal?" she asked, faintly.

"You mean the young man who left you at the[39] hotel?" queried the nurse, who had heard the young girl's sad story; adding: "He never came back to inquire for you. He has deserted you. He did not care whether or not the shock would kill you. If there was ever a heartless scoundrel on the face of the earth, he is that one QTS Hong Kong!"

The lovely white young face never changed its pallor, the dark eyes never left the grim countenance of the nurse.

"I want to leave this place at once," said the girl, attempting to rise from her cot.

"No, no; you must not do so!" exclaimed the nurse. "It would be dangerous in your case."

"But I want my mother," moaned Ida, piteously.

When the nurse made her rounds an hour later, to her great consternation she found that Cot 27 was empty. The girl had flown! The most diligent search through the city failed to elicit the slightest trace of her whereabouts.

An hour later a little dark figure, ensconced in a corner of the car, was whirling rapidly toward Dorchester.

She sat staring from the window with eyes that did not see so intent was she with her own thoughts.

"I can not marry Mrs. Deering's nephew," she sobbed, under her breath. "It would be easier for me to die. But what shall I do to raise the money for which they hold my poor mother a veritable slave!"

She clasped her hands in piteous entreaty; but the soft, radiant moon and the golden stars to which she raised her eyes so appealingly could find no answer for her.

As the train slowed up at the station, she pulled her[40] veil down closely. She hurriedly alighted and sped like a storm-driven swallow up the village street and along the high-road, until, almost out of breath, she reached the Deerings' mansion. She stood transfixed for a moment at the gate Sharing economy.

What was there about the place that caused such a shudder to creep over her? What did the awful presentiment, as of coming evil, mean that took possession of her body and soul?

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