and bosom were fearfully burned, and for some days
my life hung on a thread.

Months passed before I was able to leave my own chamber, and the blow to
my health was so severe as to induce a return of those lethargic attacks
from which I had been entirely free for the last two years. It is true
they were brief in duration compared to those of old, but that they
should exist at all was a cause of anxiety and disquietude both to my
father and physician.

By the first of March, however, I was again in glowing health, and no
trace remained, except those carefully-concealed scars on my shoulder,
of my fearful injury.

Soon after this accident had occurred, two circumstances of interest had
taken place in our household and vicinity. One of these was the return
of Claude Bainrothe from abroad, and the other the rather mysterious
visit of a gentleman, young and handsome, but poorly clad, who had
inquired for my step-mother, Mrs. Constance Monfort, and on hearing, to
his surprise and grief, apparently, that she was dead, had gone away
again without requesting an interview with any other member of the
family.

He had met Evelyn at the door just as she was about to step into the
carriage, dressed for visiting, and had said to her, merely (as she
asserted), as he turned away, evidently in sorrow:

"I am the brother of Mrs. Monfort, once Constance Glen--now, as you tell
me, no more. What children did she leave?"

"One only--a daughter," was Evelyn's reply. "Not visible to-day,
however, since she was severely burned a few days since, and is still
confined to her bed; not dangerously ill, though."

"I passed on then, as quickly as I could," said Evelyn, "for I saw no
end to questioning, and had an appointment to keep. I said, however,
civilly, 'Suppose you call another time, when papa is disengaged. To-day
he could not possibly receive you,' pausing on the steps for a reply.
This was of course all that was required of me, but he merely lifted his
hat with a cool 'Thank you, Miss Monfort,' and went his way silently. He
evidently mistook me for you, Miriam, and I did not undeceive him. My
greatest oversight was in forgetting to ask for his card; but his name
was Glen, of course, as hers was, so it would have been a mere form."

"The whole transaction seems to have been inconsiderate on your part,
Evelyn," I remarked, as mildly as I could. "Mamma's brother! Oh, what
would I not have given to have seen him! Did he never return, a