rose leaf which kept the princess from her sleep.

From this the talk branched into other subjects, and I told her much about
my lonely and wandering existence; she, for her part, giving ear, and
saying little. Although we spoke very naturally, and latterly on topics
that might seem indifferent, we were both sweetly agitated. Too soon it
was time for her to go; and we separated, as if by mutual consent, without
shaking hands, for both knew that, between us, it was no idle ceremony.

The next, and that was the fourth day of our acquaintance, we met in the
same spot, but early in the morning, with much familiarity and yet much
timidity on either side. While she had once more spoken about my
danger--and that, I understood, was her excuse for coming--I, who had
prepared a great deal of talk during the night, began to tell her how
highly I valued her kind interest, and how no one had ever cared to hear
about my life, nor had I ever cared to relate it, before yesterday.
Suddenly she interrupted me, saying with vehemence--

"And yet, if you knew who I was, you would not so much as speak to me!"

I told her such a thought was madness, and, little as we had met, I
counted her already a dear friend; but my protestations seemed only to
make her more desperate.

"My father is in hiding!" she cried.

"My dear," I said, forgetting for the first time to add "young lady,"
"what do I care? If I were in hiding twenty times over, would it make one
thought of change in you?"

"Ah, but the cause!" she cried, "the cause! It is"--she faltered for a
second--"it is disgraceful to us!"

IV

This was my wife's story, as I drew it from her among tears and sobs. Her
name was Clara Huddlestone: it sounded very beautiful in my ears; but not
so beautiful as that other name of Clara Cassilis, which she wore during
the longer and, I thank God, the happier portion of her life. Her father,
Bernard Huddlestone, had been a private banker in a very large way of
business. Many years before, his affairs becoming disordered, he had been
led to try dangerous, and at last criminal, expedients to retrieve himself
from ruin. All was in vain; he became more and more cruelly involved, and
found his honor lost at the same moment with his fortune. About this
period, Northmour had been courting his daughter with great assiduity,
though with small encouragement; and to him, knowing him thus disposed in
his favor, Bernard Huddlestone turned for help in his extr