to her sister.

How the fearful news was first broken to Rosamond, I cannot relate
to you. Miss Welwyn has never confided to me, has never confided to
anybody, what happened at the interview between her sister and herself
that night. I can tell you nothing of the shock they both suffered,
except that the younger and the weaker died under it; that the elder and
the stronger has never recovered from it, and never will.

They went away the same night, with one attendant, to Harleybrook, as
the agent had advised. Before daybreak Rosamond was seized with the
pains of premature labor. She died three days after, unconscious of the
horror of her situation, wandering in her mind about past times, and
singing old tunes that Ida had taught her as she lay in her sister's
arms.

The child was born alive, and lives still. You saw her at the window as
we came in at the back way to the Grange. I surprised you, I dare say,
by asking you not to speak of her to Miss Welwyn. Perhaps you noticed
something vacant in the little girl's expression. I am sorry to say that
her mind is more vacant still. If "idiot" did not sound like a mocking
word, however tenderly and pityingly one may wish to utter it, I should
tell you that the poor thing had been an idiot from her birth.

You will, doubtless, want to hear now what happened at Glenwith Grange
after Miss Welwyn and her sister had left it. I have seen the letter
which the police agent sent the next morning to Harleybrook; and,
speaking from my recollection of that, I shall be able to relate all you
can desire to know.

First, as to the past history of the scoundrel Monbrun, I need only tell
you that he was identical with an escaped convict, who, for a long term
of years, had successfully eluded the vigilance of the authorities
all over Europe, and in America as well. In conjunction with two
accomplices, he had succeeded in possessing himself of large sums of
money by the most criminal means. He also acted secretly as the "banker"
of his convict brethren, whose dishonest gains were all confided to
his hands for safe-keeping. He would have been certainly captured, on
venturing back to France, along with his two associates, but for the
daring imposture in which he took refuge; and which, if the true
Baron Franval had really died abroad, as was reported, would, in all
probability, never have been found out.

Besides his extraordinary likeness to the baron, he had every other
requisite for ca