For an instant after he was safely in the car he was too dazed to think.

It seemed as if he must keep on blindly rushing through that train all the

way to Chicago, or she would get away from him. He sat down in an empty

seat for a minute to get his senses. He was actually on the train! It had

not gone without him!

Now the next question was, Was she on it herself, or had she in some way

slipped from his grasp even yet? The old butler might have caught her by

telephone. He doubted it. He knew her stubborn determination, and all at

once he began to suspect that she was with intention running away from

him, and perhaps had been doing so before! It was an astonishing thought

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and a grave one, yet, if it were true, what had meant that welcoming smile

in her eyes that had been like dear sunshine to his heart?

But there was no time to consider such questions now. He had started on

this quest, and he must continue it until he found her. Then she should be

made to explain once and for all most fully. He would live through no more

torturing agonies of separation without a full understanding of the

matter. He got upon his shaking feet, and started to hunt for Elizabeth.

Then all at once he became aware that he was still carrying the box of

flowers. Battered and out of shape it was, but he was holding it as if it

held the very hope of life for him. He smiled grimly as he tottered

shakily down the aisle, grasping his floral offering with determination.

This was not exactly the morning call he had planned, nor the way he had

expected to present his flowers; but it seemed to be the best he could do.

Then, at last, in the very furthest car from the end, in the drawing-room

he found her, sitting gray and sorrowful, looking at the fast-flying

landscape.

"Elizabeth!" He stood in the open door and called to her; and she started

as from a deep sleep, her face blazing into glad sunshine at sight of him.

She put her hand to her heart, and smiled.

"I have brought you some flowers," he said grimly. "I am afraid there

isn't much left of them now; but, such as they are, they are here. I hope

you will accept them."

"Oh!" gasped Elizabeth, reaching out for the poor crushed roses as if they

had been a little child in danger. She drew them from the battered box and

to her arms with a delicious movement of caressing, as if she would make

up to them for all they had come through. He watched her, half pleased,

half savagely. Why should all that tenderness be wasted on mere fading

flowers?




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