h another groan.

Then with a mighty effort he partially recovered his composure, made
them sit down, and told them as briefly as he could all about his
dreadful day.

He had started out that morning determined to make one last vigorous
effort--to spare neither himself, his horse, nor his purse to gain some
clew; then, if he learned nothing of the fate of his lost love, he would
give up his search and go home to England with his mother.

He followed the coast along the gulf, as he had done a dozen times
before, but intending to extend his search farther than he had yet done.
He rode many miles, until the heat became so intense that he was forced
to turn back without as yet having made any discovery.

Suddenly, however, as he was nearing Mentone, he saw a group of
fishermen gathered around something which they had evidently just drawn
from the water at the foot of a cliff, along the edge of which the
highway ran.

Approaching nearer, he saw what appeared to be a long black object, and
knew that it was contemplated with horror by the spectators, for the
men's faces were gray and awe-stricken.

A nameless fear seized upon his own heart, and leaping from his horse,
he fastened him to a tree, and springing down the cliff with all the
speed he could force into his faltering feet, he saw, while a groan of
despair burst from him, that the object lying upon the beach was the
body of a woman.

Such a horror he had never looked upon before--he hoped never to look
upon again.

The woman was clad, not in black, as he had at first thought, but in a
dark gray suit trimmed with bands of blue silk. Upon the head was a grey
hat, also trimmed with blue, and having a gray wing among the folds of
velvet, and wound about this was a thick blue vail.

"Violet?" moaned Mrs. Mencke, with a shiver, as Lord Cameron reached
this portion of his tale.

"Yes, Violet, without any doubt," he answered, in a hollow voice, "for
the clothing all corresponded exactly with your description of what she
wore away; but otherwise she was past all recognition, excepting the
hair, which was golden like hers, though sadly matted and disheveled by
the action of the sea. What her object was in leaving the hotel we can
probably never know; perhaps it was simply a walk--I hope that was her
object," the young man said, something like a sob bursting from him;
"but she must have wandered too near the edge of the cliff, missed her
foothold, and fallen into the