you will not
walk out of the house. You will be carried out."

"You speak bitterly."

"I feel bitterly."

"Has any thing new happened?" he asked, following up the advantage
which her confession gave him.

"No; it is the old story. Interminable troubles, which have to be
borne with interminable patience."

There was a long silence. "You spoke once," said Gualtier at last, in
a low tone, "of something which you promised one day to tell me--some
papers. You said that you would show them some day when we were
better acquainted. Are we not better acquainted? You have seen me now
for many weeks since that time, and ought to know whether I am worthy
to be trusted or not."

"Mr. Gualtier," said Hilda, frankly, and without hesitation, "from my
point of view I have concluded that you are worthy to be trusted. I
have decided to show you the paper."

Gualtier began to murmur his thanks, Hilda waved her hand. "There is
no need of that," said she. "It may not amount to any thing, and then
your thanks will be thrown away. If it does amount to something you
will share the benefit of it with me--though you can not share the
revenge," she muttered, in a lower tone.

"But, after all," she continued, "I do not know that any thing can be
gained by it. The conjectures which I have formed may all be
unfounded."

"At any rate, I shall be able to see what the foundation is," said
Gualtier.

"True," returned Hilda, rising; "and so I will go at once and get the
paper."

"Have you kept it ever since?" he asked.

"What! the paper? Oh, you must not imagine that I have kept the
original! No, no. I kept it long enough to make a copy, and returned
the original to its place."

"Where did you find it?"

"In the General's private desk."

"Did it seem to be a paper of any importance?"

"Yes; it was kept by itself in a secret drawer. That showed its
importance."

Hilda then left the room, and in a short time returned with a
paper in her hand.

"Here it is," she said, and she gave it to Gualtier. Gualtier took
it, and unfolding it, he saw this:

Gualtier took this singular paper, and examined it long and
earnestly. Hilda had copied out the characters with painful
minuteness and beautiful accuracy; but nothing in it suggested to
him any revelation of its dark meaning, and he put it down with a
strange, bewildered air.

"What is it all?" he asked. "It seems to contain some mystery,
beyond a doubt. I can gather nothing from the c