mpanying word of explanation. In the foreground was the garden,
stretching up the slope of the hill towards the top, where the
fort-wall began; beyond, fort, barracks, settlement,--and still
beyond, the sea. The island of Foray, as thus represented, appeared
like many other views on paper, very pleasing and attractive. Nature
is not responsible for sin and suffering, that she should veil her
glory wherever these may choose to pitch their tent.

The prisoner took the drawing from the table where she had laid it,
and scanned it closely.

"You have left out my house," said he.

"There was no room for it," she answered.

"True!" He understood her. "Do you know whom this is for, Mr. Manuel?

"Whom is it for, Elizabeth?"

"For Madeline; is it a pretty view?"

"Really for her, Elizabeth?"

"Surely. Her eyes shall look on the same view as yours."

"The fort, flag, sea-wall, burial-ground, ocean, barracks, garden;
--it is well done.--Now I will tell you of the place where it will
find her."

He paused a moment ere he began that description. He looked at the
quiet figure of the child for whom he dared recall the past. She
stood with folded hands, so fair, so young, the sight was a
refreshment, and a strange assurance always, to his weary eyes and
weary heart. Never did she look so lovely to him as now when he was
about to speak again to her of his life's love for another.

"It was once a magnificent estate," he began.

"Oh, is she a grand lady?" broke from Elizabeth.

"Yes, a grand lady. You speak well," replied Manuel, with a smile.
"The estate was once ten times as large as this island. Towns and
villages are built over the land now, but the old house stands as it
has stood through ten generations. There she lives. If she stands by
the library-window today, she can see the church built by her
great-grandfather, and the little town of Desperiers, which had in
his day a population of tenantry. She can see the ponds and the park,
and a garden where there are hothouses, and graperies, and
conservatories, and winding walks where you might walk all day and
find something new to surprise and delight you at every turn. There
is a tower that commands a view of fifty miles in one direction. The
old house is full of treasure. She is mistress of all,--the only
representative of a long line of noble men and beautiful women who
have dispensed magnificent hospitality there. The last time I saw her,
Elizabeth, she was standing