e lily pinned at her throat, and it
fell upon the palette, sullying its purity with the dark paint to
which its petals clung. She removed it, looked at its defaced
loveliness, and tossed it aside, saying moodily,--

"Typical of our souls, originally dowered with a stainless and
well-nigh perfect holiness, but drooping dust-ward continually, and
once tainted by the fall,--hugging the corruption that ruined it."

As the governess looked and listened, a half-perplexed, half-frightened
expression passed over her countenance, and at length she advanced to
the arch, and said, tremblingly,--

"Can I have a few moments' conversation with Mrs. Gerome, on important
business?"

"My God! am I verily mad at last? Because I called up Judas, must I
also evoke the partner of his crime?"

With a thrilling, almost blood-curdling cry Mrs. Gerome had leaped to
her feet at the sound of Miss Dexter's voice, and, dropping palette
and brush, confronted her with a look of horror and hate. The quick
and violent movement shook out her comb, and down came the folds of
hair, falling like a silver cataract to her knees.

Bewildered by memories which the face and form recalled, the governess
looked at the shining white locks, and her lips blanched, as she
stammered,--

"Are you Mrs. Gerome?"

Her scarlet hood had fallen back, disclosing her wealth of golden
hair; and gazing at her thin but still lovely features, rouged by a
hectic glow that lent strange beauty to the wide, brown eyes, Mrs.
Gerome answered, huskily,--

"I am the mistress of this house. Who is the woman who has the
audacity to intrude upon my seclusion, and vividly remind me of one
whose hated lineaments have cursed my memory for years? Woman, if I
believed _she_ had the effrontery to thrust herself into my presence,
I should fear that at this instant I am afflicted with the abhorred
sight of Edith Dexter, than whom a legion of devils would be more
welcome!"

The name fell hissingly from her stern mouth, and when she shook back
the hair that drooped over her brow, the gray globe-like eyes
glittered as polished blue steel under some fitful light.

A low, half-stifled cry escaped the governess, and springing forward
she fell on her knees and grasped the white hands that had clutched
each other.

"Evelyn! It must be Evelyn! despite this gray hair and wan,
changed face! and I could never mistake these beautiful, beautiful
hands--unlike any others in the world! Evelyn, my l