he had heard. That gentleman seemed greatly
surprised, and even startled at the earnestness of the young man,
and more particularly so when he learned precisely the relation in
which he stood to the daughter of Mr. Ballantine.

"I remember the fact," was his reply. "But then, the young woman
was, of course, a mere pretender."

"But how do you know?" urged Mr. Perkins. "Did you take any steps to
ascertain the truth of her story?"

"Of course not. Why should I? An old friend of her father's called
upon them at the hotel, and saw the man that was attempted to be put
off by an artful girl as Mr. Ballantine. But he said the man bore no
kind of resemblance to that person. He was old and white-headed. He
was in his dotage--a simple old fool--passive in the hands of a
designing woman."

"Did you see him?"

"No."

"Strange that you should not!" Perkins replied, looking the man
steadily in the face. "Bearing the relation that you did to Mr.
Ballantine, it might be supposed that you would have been the first
to see the man, and the most active to ascertain the truth or
falsity of the story."

"I do not permit any one to question me in regard to my conduct,"
Mr. Paralette said, in an offended tone, turning from the excited
young man.

Perkins saw that he had gone too far, and endeavored to modify and
apologize: but the merchant repulsed him, and refused to answer any
more questions, or to hold any further conversation with him on the
subject.

The next step taken by the young man was to seek out his friend, and
learn from him all the particular rumors on the subject, and who
would be most likely to put him in the way of tracing the
individuals he was in search of. But he found, when he got fairly
started on the business for which he had come to New Orleans, that
he met with but little encouragement. Some shrugged their shoulders,
some smiled in his face, and nearly every one treated the matter
with a degree of indifference. Many had heard that a person claiming
to be Miss Ballantine had sent notes to a few of Mr. Ballantine's
old friends about two years previous; but no one seemed to have the
least doubt of her being an impostor. A week passed in fruitless
efforts to awaken any interest, or to create the slightest
disposition to inquiry among Mr. B.'s old friends. The story told by
the young woman they considered as too improbable to bear upon its
face the least appearance of truth.

"Why," was the unanswerable arg