ion as ardent as his own. He was a Pygmalion, whose statue had
become a woman. For the first time he now realized how far his heart had
travelled from the spirit-love which once had been enough for it, and how
impossible it was that it should ever again find satisfaction in the dim
and nebulous emotion in which it had so long rested. With a sense of
recreancy that was wholly shameless, he realized that it was no longer
Ida Ludington, but Ida Slater, whom he loved.

Little did the forlorn girl, in her self-imposed exile, imagine what a
welcome would have met her if, moved by some intuition, she had retraced
her steps that morning to the chamber which a few hours before she had
deserted.

Repentance often is so fine that in the moral balance it quite outweighs
the fault repented of, and so it was in her case. Such repentance is as
if the black stalk of sin had blossomed and put forth a fragrant flower.

These two persons, whom she had expected to loathe her as soon as they
should know the truth, had from the first reading of her story been more
impressed with the chivalrous instinct which had driven her to abandon
her role of fraud when it was about to be crowned with dazzling success,
than with her original offence in entering upon it. The effect of her
story was in this respect a curious one for a confession to produce: it
had added to the affection which they had previously entertained for her,
an appreciation of the nobility of her character which they had not then
possessed.

Paul's heart yearned after its mistress in her self-humiliation and
voluntary banishment as never before. This impassioned and most human
woman, who had shown herself capable of wrong, and, also, of most
generous renunciation, had struck a deeper chord in his breast than had
ever vibrated to the touch of the flawless seraph he had supposed her to
be.

Having canvassed all possible methods of reaching Ida in her flight, it
was decided by Paul and his aunt to begin by advertising, and that same
day the following notice was inserted in all the daily papers of Brooklyn
and New York;--

"IDA S----R.--All is forgiven; only come back. We cannot live without
you. For pity's sake at least write to us.

"Miss L---- AND PAUL."

This advertisement was to remain in the papers till forbidden. If Ida was
anywhere in the two cities or vicinity, the chances were that it would
fall under the notice of hersel