Liane Lester, late that afternoon, when coming home from her work with her friend, Lizzie White, saw again the handsome face and dark, flashing eyes of Jesse Devereaux. He had believed himself unseen, but he was mistaken.

Some subtle instinct had turned Liane\'s timid glance straight to the spot where he was watching, unseen, as he believed.

The quick, passionate throb of her heart sent the blood bounding to her cheeks and made her hands tremble as they clasped the envelope with her slender weekly earnings.

But at the same instant Liane dropped the thick, curling fringe of her lashes quickly over her eyes, for in his alert glance she met no sign of recognition, and her heart sank heavily again as she remembered his cold, careless greeting the day she had passed his house with Mrs. Brinkley.

The good woman was right. He might have amused himself with her in the country, but he was indifferent to her in town. He would not[Pg 237] even take the trouble to bow when they met by chance, as now.

But Liane had the most loyal heart in the world, and she could never forget that night by the sea when Devereaux had saved her from the insulting caresses of the dark-browed stranger, and afterward from granny\'s blow, breaking his arm in her defense.

"How brave and noble he was that night! He was so handsome and adorable that my heart went out to him, never to be recalled, in spite of all that has happened since," she thought sadly.

With lowered lashes and a heart sinking heavily with its hopeless love and pain, Liane passed on with her friend, little dreaming that she was followed to her home by Devereaux, nor what dire consequences would follow on his learning her address.

She was restless that night, and he haunted her dreams persistently, and on the morrow she rose tired, and pale, and sad, almost wishing she had not met him again, to have all the old pain and regret revived within her breast.

The long day dragged away, and when she went home that evening she found awaiting her the Philadelphia magazine that had her beautiful[Pg 238] face on the outside cover. Accompanying this was a batch of novels, together with a basket of fruit and a bunch of roses.

"Hothouse roses and tropical fruit—you must have caught a rich beau, Liane!" cried Mrs. Brinkley, as she delivered the gifts.

"Oh, no; there must be some mistake," she answered quickly, but her heart throbbed as she remembered the meeting with Devereaux yesterday, and she wondered if he could possibly be the donor.

"Impossible!" she sighed to herself, as the woman continued:

"There cannot be any mistake, for there is the card, tied to the basket, with \'Miss Liane Lester, with kind wishes of a true friend,\' written on it. They came by a neat messenger boy, who would not answer a single question I asked him."

"A charming mystery! Oh, what magnificent roses for the last of November!" cried Lizzie, inhaling their fragrance with delight, while Liane handed around the basket, generously sharing the luscious fruit with her friends.

She was thinking all the while of the words Jesse Devereaux had said to her on the beach that never-to-be-forgotten night:

[Pg 239]

"I will be a true friend to you."

The card on the basket read the same: "A True Friend."

It was enough to send the tremulous color flying to Liane\'s cheek, while a new, faint hope throbbed at her heart.

Granny was out somewhere, or she would have got a scolding on suspicion of knowing the donor of the presents. She wisely kept the truth to herself, dividing the fruit with her friends, placing the books in her trunk, and the roses in a vase in Lizzie\'s room, though she longed very much to have them in her own.

That night her dreams were sweet and rose-colored.

She went to work with a blithe heart next morning, and, although it was the first day of December, and a light covering of snow lay on the roofs and pavements, she did not feel the biting wind pierce through her thin jacket; her pulse was bounding and her being in a glow because of the great scarlet rose pinned on her breast, seeming to shed a summer warmth and sweetness on the icy air—the warmth of hope and love.

All day her visions were rose-colored, and her thoughts hovered about Devereaux until she almost[Pg 240] forgot where she was, and was recalled unpleasantly to reality by a proud, impatient voice exclaiming:

"I have spoken to you twice, and you have not heard me! Your thoughts must be very far away. Show me your best kid gloves—five and a half size!"

At the same moment a small hand had gently pressed her arm, sending an odd thrill through her whole frame, causing her to start and look up at a handsome, richly dressed woman, whose dark-blue eyes were fixed on her in surprise and dislike.

She knew the proud, cold face instantly. It belonged to a woman she had seen on Edmund Clarke\'s arm the night of the beauty contest. It was his wife, the mother of haughty Roma, and Liane comprehended instantly her glance of anger—it was because she had taken the prize over Roma\'s head.

Wounded and abashed by the lady\'s scorn, Liane attended to her wants in timid silence, only speaking when necessary, her cheeks flushed, her soft eyes downcast, her white hands fluttering nervously over the gloves.

Mrs. Clarke selected a box of gloves, paid for[Pg 241] them, and said in a supercilious tone, quite different from her usual gentle manner:

"I will take the gloves with me. You may bring them out to my carriage on the opposite side of the street."

She was purposely humbling Liane, and the girl felt it intuitively. Her bosom heaved, and her blue eyes brimmed with dew, but she did not resent the proud command, only took up the box of gloves and followed her customer out of the store to the thickly crowded pavement and over the crossing, where a carriage waited in a throng of vehicles on the other side.

All at once something terrible happened.

Mrs. Clarke, keeping proudly in front of Liane, and not noticing closely enough her environment of vehicles and street cars, suddenly found herself right in the path of an electric car that in another moment would have crushed out her life had not two small hands reached out and hurled her swiftly aside.

Hundreds of eyes had seen the lady\'s imminent peril, and marked with kindling admiration the girl\'s heroic deed.

Without a selfish thought, though she was exposing herself to deadly danger, Liane bounded[Pg 242] wildly upon the track and seized the dazed and immovable woman with frantic hands, dragging her by main force off the track of the car that, in the succeeding moment, whizzed by at its highest speed, just as the two, Liane and the rescued woman, fell to the ground outside the wheels.

Eager, sympathetic men bore them to the pavement, where it was found that Mrs. Clarke was in a swoon, so deathlike that it frightened Liane, who sobbed and wrung her hands.

"Oh, she is dead! The terrible shock has killed her! Can no one do anything to bring back her life? She must not die! She has a loving husband and a beautiful daughter, who would break their hearts over their terrible loss!"

"Who is she?" they asked the sobbing girl, and she answered:

"She is Mrs. Clarke, a wealthy lady of Stonecliff, and must be visiting in the city."

At that moment the lady\'s eyes fluttered open, she gazed with a dazed air on the curious faces that surrounded her, and murmured:

"Where am I? What has happened?"

There were not lacking a dozen voices to tell her everything, loud in praise of the lovely girl[Pg 243] who had saved her life at the imminent risk of her own.

"I—I did no more than my duty!" she sobbed, blushing crimson while they all gazed on her with the warmest admiration. There are so few who do their duty even in this cold, hard world, and one man exclaimed:

............