re is, there will the heart be also"; and my lady, now
that things were settled, and the journey to Constantinople postponed
indefinitely, had sunk into a state of sulky displeasure, and was
satirical, and scornful, and contemptuous, and stately, and altogether
exquisitely disagreeable.

Lady Louise had left Devonshire, and gone back to shine brilliantly in
London society once more.

Miss Hunsden went to France with the portly old house-keeper and the
devoted young baronet. Mme. Beaufort received her ex-pupil with very
French effusion.

"Ah, my angel! so pale, so sad, so beautiful! I am distracted at the
appearance! But we will restore you. The change, the associations--all
will be well in time."

The lonely young creature clung to her lover with passionate abandon.

"Don't go back just yet, Everard," she implored. "Let me get used to
being alone. When you are with me I am content, but when you go, and I
am all alone among these strangers--"

But he needed no pleading--he loved her entirely, devotedly. He
promised anything--everything! He would remain in Paris the whole year
of probation, if she wished, that he might see her at least every week.

She let him go at last, and stole away in the dusky gloaming to her
allotted little room. She locked the door, sat down by the table, laid
her face on her folded arms, and wet them with her raining tears.

"I loved him so!" she thought--"my precious father! Oh, it was hard to
let him go!"

She cried until she could literally cry no longer. Then she arose. It
was quite dark now, and she lighted her lamp.

"I will read his letter," she said to herself--"the letter he left for
me. I will learn this terrible secret that blighted his life."

There was her writing-case on the table. She opened it and took out the
letter. She looked sadly at the superscription a moment, then opened it
and began to read.

"It will be like his voice speaking to me from the grave," she thought.
"My own devoted father!"

Half an hour passed. The letter was long and closely written, and the
girl read it slowly from beginning to end.

It dropped in her lap. She sat there, staring straight before her, with
a fixed, vacant stare. Then she arose slowly, placed it in the
writing-case, put her hand to her head confusedly, and turned with a
bewildered look.

Her face flushed dark red; the room was reeling, the walls rocking
dizzily. She made a step forward with both hands bli