upon
her cheek; and an inaudible answer trembled on her lips, when
noiselessly through the door came _Mr. Graham_, starting when he saw
their position, and offering to withdraw if he was intruding. 'Lena
was surprised and excited, and springing up, she laid her hand upon
his arm as he was about to leave the room, bidding him stay and
saying he was always welcome there.

So he stayed, and with the first frown upon his brow which 'Lena had
ever seen, Durward left--left without receiving an answer to his
question, or even referring to it again, though 'Lena accompanied him
to the door, half dreading, yet hoping, he would repeat it. But he
did not, and wishing her much pleasure in his father's company, he
walked away, writing in his heart bitter things against _him_, not
her. On his way home he fell in with Du Pont, who, Frenchman-like,
had taken a little too much wine, and was very talkative.

"Vous just come from Mademoiselle Rivers," said he. "She be von fine
girl. What relation be she to Monsieur Graham?"

"None whatever. Why do you ask?"

"Because he pay her musique lessons and----"

Here Du Pont suddenly remembered his promise, so he kept back Mr.
Graham's assertion that he was a near relative, adding in its place,
that "he thought probable he related; but you no tell," said he, "for
Monsieur bid me keep secret and I forgot."

Here, having reached a cross-road, they parted, and again Durward
wrote down bitter things against his father, for what could be his
object in wishing it kept a secret that he was paying for 'Lena's
lessons, or why did he pay for them at all--and did 'Lena know it?
He thought not, and for a time longer was she blameless in his eyes.

On reaching home he found both the parlor and drawing-room deserted,
and upon inquiry learned that his mother was in her own room.
Something, he could hardly tell what, prompted him to knock for
admission, which being granted, he entered, finding her unusually
pale, with the trace of tears still upon her cheek. This of itself
was so common an occurrence, that he would hardly have observed it
had not there been about her a look of unfeigned distress which he
had seldom seen before.

"What's the matter, mother?" said he, advancing toward her; "What has
happened to trouble you?"

Without any reply, Mrs. Graham placed in his hand a richly-cased
daguerreotype, and laying her head upon the table, sobbed aloud. A
moment Durward stood transfixed to the s