herself he believed that,
with her assistance, he would soon discover the servants who had been
in the house during her residence there, and, through them, find some
substantial evidence to work upon.

But although he had advertised for her in several Boston papers, he
had not been able to get any trace of her.

He had, however, filed a plea to have Edith's so-called marriage set
aside, and was anxiously waiting for some time to be appointed for a
hearing of the' case.

Edith and her new acquaintance, Mr. Raymond, were fast becoming firm
friends, in spite of the suspense that was hanging over the former
regarding her future.

The young girl had first been drawn toward the invalid from a feeling
of sympathy, and because of his old-time fondness for her mother. But,
upon becoming better acquainted with him, she began to admire him for
his many noble qualities, both of mind and heart, while she ever found
him a most entertaining companion, as he possessed an exhaustless fund
of anecdote and personal experiences, acquired during his extensive
travels, which he never wearied of relating when he could find an
appreciative listener.

Thus she spent a great deal of time with him, while by her many little
attentions to his comfort she won a large place in his heart.

One day Mrs. Morrell and Edith went to attend a charity exhibition
that was under the supervision of a friend of the former, at her own
house.

Upon their arrival they were ushered into the drawing-room, which was
beautifully decorated and hung with many exquisite paintings, while
some rare gems were resting conspicuously upon easels.

In one corner, and artistically draped with a beautiful scarf, Edith
was startled, almost at the moment of her entrance, to see a painting
that was very familiar.

It was that representing a portion of an old Roman wall, with the
lovers resting in its shadow, which had attracted the attention of
Mrs. Stewart on the last night of the "winter frolic," at Wyoming.

With an expression of astonishment she went forward to examine it more
closely and to assure herself that it was the original, and not a
copy.

Yes, those two tiny letters, G. G., in one corner, told their own
story, and proved her surmise to be correct.

"How strange that it should be here!" she breathed.

She had hardly uttered the words when some one arose from behind the
easel, and--she stood face to face with Gerald Goddard himself.

The girl stood whi