y, poor little Louisa,
and perhaps that sad fate may soften the hearts of thy cruel
grandparent. Oh not as it has been fulfilled did the dying Evangeline
understand the promise made with regard to the little Louisa. Oh how
often was the stillness of the night broken by the bitter sobs of the
desolate little orphan whose aching heart sought for love in vain. Then
can we wonder that when this lonely one, did find one to love, that she
should willingly listen to his persuasions in hopes of a happy future,
rather than endure any longer such a cheerless existence.

In the early morning a violent knocking at the hall door brought Thomson
from his gossip with the other servants.

"Is there not a lady--a widow lady, staying here?" inquired an old
gentleman in an agitated voice, while the cab driver beat his arms on
the pavement. "Is not this Mr. Ashton's?" he added, as Thomson
hesitated. Thomson answered in the affirmative, and the old gentleman
continued, "Is the lady here? Can I see your master? answer me quickly
don't be so stupid."

"A lady came last night but, but," stammered Thomson "she,"

"Is she here now, I say," he cried angrily.

"Yes sir, but--

"Say no more, just tell your master I want to see him immediately, stop,
take my card, here, now be quick."

Poor Thomas was quite bewildered by the old gentleman's manner. I'm
blest he murmured if I know what we're coming to next, Lord Barrington,
what does he want I should like to know.

"Why Ada, it is Lord Barrington," exclaimed Charles.

"How very fortunate," returned Ada "of course he will take charge of the
baby, I confess I was in a quandary for I do not relish the idea of
having the care of it, poor little thing."

"Nor I either, but I am not so sure that he will take it, it is much
more likely he has come to row me about the whole affair."

"You! Why, what had you to do with it?"

"No more than you had; but I must see him at once, I suppose."

"Shall I go, too?" asked Ada, timidly.

"Not at present: if there is to be a storm, I do not see why you should
be in it."

"He is such a dreadful old man, is he not?"

"Not usually; he was always very, very kind to Arthur."

"Not to his wife," she replied, vainly endeavoring to repress her tears.

"No, very cruel; but you must not grieve so much about it, dearest Ada."

"I cannot help it, it is so terribly shocking."

"But it is past, now: she is at rest, she is happy; even her lifeless
remains look