sad search through the insane asylums,--Mrs. Gerome
lifted her queenly head, and bent a piercing glance upon the speaker.

Ah! what a hungry, eager expression looked out shyly from her whilom
hopeless eyes, when, with an imperious gesture, she silenced her
visitor, and asked,--

"You spent your hard earnings, not in _trousseau_, or preparations for
housekeeping; but hunting for me in lunatic asylums? Suppose you had
found me in a mad-house?"

"Then I should have become an inmate of the same gloomy walls; and,
while you lived, should have shared with faithful Elsie the care and
charge of you. God is my witness, I had resolved to dedicate my
remaining years to the task of cheering and guarding yours. Oh,
Evelyn! not until we stand in the great Court of Heaven can you
realize how sincerely, how tenderly, and unwaveringly, I love you. My
darling, how can you distrust my faithful heart?"

She sank on her knees, and, throwing her arms around the tall, slender
form, looked with mournful, beseeching tenderness at the haughty
features above her.

For a moment the proud, pale face glowed,--the great shadowy eyes
kindled and shone like wintry planets in some crystalline sky; but
doubt, murderous, cynical doubt, grappled with hope, and strangled
it.

"Edith, I wish I could believe you. I am struggling desperately to lay
hold of the fluttering garments of faith, but I cannot! Suspicion has
walked hand in hand with me so long that I cannot shake off her
numbing touch, and I distrust all human things, save the dusty heart
that moulders yonder in my old Elsie's grave."

She pointed to the white columns of the temple, and then the uplifted
fingers fell heavily on Edith's shoulder.

"Go on. I wish to learn whose treachery betrayed the secret of my
retreat."

Pressing her feverish lips to the hand she admired so enthusiastically,
Miss Dexter resumed her recital of what had occurred since her journey
to London, and finally ended it with an account of her removal to
'Grassmere,' and of the discovery of the miniatures that guided her to
'Solitude.'

A long pause followed, and a heavy sigh, only partially smothered,
indexed the contest that raged under Mrs. Gerome's calm exterior.

"Edith, would you have inferred from Dr. Grey's manner that he was not
only acquainted with my history, but yours, at least, so far as it
intersected mine? Did he furnish no hint, no clew, that aided you in
your search?"

"None whatever. On the con