inly not suffering
from that disease. But I see how it is," said Diana, wringing her hands.
"During my short absence, and under the tyranny of his wife, his
physical health and moral principles gave way. Drink and consumption!
Ah! God! were not these ills enough but what the woman must add murder
to cap them both?"

"We do not know yet if she is guilty," said Lucian quietly. "Will you go
on with your story, Miss Vrain? Later on we can discuss these matters,
when I am in possession of the facts. You say it was an evil hour when
you went to Italy."

"It was indeed," said Diana sorrowfully, "for in Florence, at the
Pension Donizetti, on the Lung Arno, we met with Lydia Clyne and her
father. They had only lately arrived in Italy--from New York, I
suppose--but already she was said to be engaged to a needy Italian
nobleman named Hercule Ferruci."

"Then I suppose the Clynes were rich," said Lucian, "for I know those
Italian nobles too well to suspect that this Count Ferruci would pay
attention to any one but an heiress."

"She was supposed to be rich, Mr. Denzil. All Americans, for some
reason, are supposed to be millionaires; but after she married my father
I learned that Mr. Clyne had a very moderate fortune indeed, and his
daughter nothing. It was for that reason that Lydia threw over the
count, to whom she was almost engaged, and began to pay attention to my
father. She heard talk of his estates in the gossip of the Pension, and
believing him to be rich, she decided to marry him instead of throwing
herself away in a romantic fit on Ferruci."

"Did she love this Italian?"

"Yes, I am sure she did; and, what is more, she loves him still!"

"What! Is Count Ferruci still acquainted with Mrs. Vrain?"

"He is, as you shall hear. Miss Clyne, as I said, determined to make a
rich marriage by becoming the second Mrs. Vrain. I never liked her,
knowing that she was false and frivolous; but though I did my best to
stop the marriage, my father would not be controlled. You know that this
woman is pretty and fascinating."

"She is certainly the first, but not the last," interposed Lucian.

"At all events," resumed Diana disconsolately, "she was sufficiently
fascinating to snare my poor foolish old father. We remained four months
in Florence, and before we left it Lydia Clyne became Mrs. Vrain. I
could do nothing with my father, as he was possessed of the headstrong
passion of an old man, and, moreover, Lydia had learned to kn