ghts of going on the
stage."

"Yes," was the scarce audible answer.

"And now only remains the question, 'What is to be done?'"

"I am sure I don't know, and I don't care."

"Then you leave it to me to know and to care; and assuming for the
moment as a fact that which is one of the greatest lies in this
mendacious world--namely, that all men are brothers--you will consider
me as an elder brother, who will counsel and control you as he would
an imprudent young--sister. I see very well how it is. Somehow or other
you, having first admired Mr. Compton as Romeo or Richard III., made his
acquaintance as Mr. Compton. He allowed you to believe him a single
man. In a romantic moment you escaped from your home, with the design of
adopting the profession of the stage and of becoming Mrs. Compton."

"Oh," broke out the girl, since her sex must now be declared, "oh," she
exclaimed, with a passionate sob, "what a fool I have been! Only do not
think worse of me than I deserve. The man did deceive me; he did not
think I should take him at his word, and follow him here, or his wife
would not have appeared. I should not have known he had one and--and--"
here her voice was choked under her passion.

"But now you have discovered the truth, let us thank Heaven that you are
saved from shame and misery. I must despatch a telegram to your uncle:
give me his address."

"No, no."

"There is not a 'No' possible in this case, my child. Your reputation
and your future must be saved. Leave me to explain all to your uncle.
He is your guardian. I must send for him; nay, nay, there is no option.
Hate me now for enforcing your will: you will thank me hereafter. And
listen, young lady; if it does pain you to see your uncle, and encounter
his reproaches, every fault must undergo its punishment. A brave nature
undergoes it cheerfully, as a part of atonement. You are brave. Submit,
and in submitting rejoice!"

There was something in Kenelm's voice and manner at once so kindly and
so commanding that the wayward nature he addressed fairly succumbed.
She gave him her uncle's address, "John Bovill, Esq., Oakdale, near
Westmere." And after giving it, she fixed her eyes mournfully upon her
young adviser, and said with a simple, dreary pathos, "Now, will you
esteem me more, or rather despise me less?"

She looked so young, nay, so childlike, as she thus spoke, that Kenelm
felt a parental inclination to draw her on his lap and kiss away
her tears. But