r to restore to her, he hoped to obtain
her consent to a marriage which would retrieve his fortunes and gratify
his ambition.

Mrs. Clifton entered the room, and seated herself quietly. She bowed
slightly, but did not, as usual, offer her hand. But, full of his own
plans, Mr. Somerville took no note of this change in her manner.

"How long is it since Ida was lost?" inquired Somerville, abruptly.

Mrs. Clifton heard this question in surprise. Why was it that he had
alluded to this subject?

"Seven years," she answered.

"And you believe she yet lives?"

"Yes, I am certain of it."

John Somerville did not understand her. He thought it was only because a
mother is reluctant to give up hope.

"It is a long time," he said.

"It is--a long time to suffer," said Mrs. Clifton, with deep meaning.
"How could anyone have the heart to work me this great injury? For seven
years I have led a sad and solitary life--seven years that might have
been gladdened and cheered by my darling's presence!"

There was something in her tone that puzzled John Somerville, but he was
far enough from suspecting that she knew the truth, and at last knew him
too.

"Rosa," he said, after a pause, "I, too, believe that Ida still lives.
Do you love her well enough to make a sacrifice for the sake of
recovering her?"

"What sacrifice?" she asked, fixing her eye upon him.

"A sacrifice of your feelings."

"Explain. You speak in enigmas."

"Listen, then. I have already told you that I, too, believe Ida to be
living. Indeed, I have lately come upon a clew which I think will lead
me to her. Withdraw the opposition you have twice made to my suit,
promise me that you will reward my affection by your hand if I succeed,
and I will devote myself to the search for Ida, resting not day or night
till I have placed her in your arms. This I am ready to do. If I
succeed, may I claim my reward?"

"What reason have you for thinking you would be able to find her?" asked
Mrs. Clifton, with the same inexplicable manner.

"The clew that I spoke of."

"And are you not generous enough to exert yourself without demanding of
me this sacrifice?"

"No, Rosa," he answered, firmly, "I am not unselfish enough. I have long
loved you. You may not love me; but I am sure I can make you happy. I am
forced to show myself selfish, since it is the only way in which I can
win you."

"But consider a moment. Put it on a different ground. If you restore me
my child now,