ield you from. I
loved your father very devotedly, and I shall love his orphan quite as
dearly. Come to me, let me be your mother. Let me repair the wrong of
bygone years."

She folded her arms around the graceful young form and sobbed aloud, while
Irene found it difficult to repress her own tears of sympathy and joy that
her friend had found such relatives. Of the three, Electra was calmest.
Though glad to meet with her father's family, she knew better than they
that this circumstance could make little alteration in her life, and
therefore, when Mrs. Young had left the room to acquaint her husband and
son with the discovery she had made, Electra sat down beside her friend's
sofa just as she would have done two hours before.

"I am so glad for your sake that you are to come and live here. Until you
know them all as well as I do, you cannot properly appreciate your good
fortune," said Irene, raising herself on her elbow.

"Yes, I am very glad to meet my aunt," returned Electra, evasively, and
then she added earnestly--

"I don't know that I ought to talk about things that should have been
buried before you were born. But you probably know something of what
happened. We found out after you left why you were so suddenly sent off to
boarding-school; and you can have no idea how much my poor aunt was
distressed at the thought of having caused your banishment. Irene, your
father hated her, and of course you know it; but do you know why?"

"No; I never could imagine any adequate cause."

"Well, I can tell you. Before Aunt Amy's marriage your father loved her,
and to please her parents she accepted him. She was miserable, because she
was very much attached to my uncle, and asked Mr. Huntingdon to release her
from the engagement. He declined, and finding that her parents sided with
him she left home and married against their wishes. They adopted a distant
relative and never gave her a cent. Your father never forgave her. He had
great influence with the governor, and she went to him and entreated him to
aid her in procuring a pardon for her husband. He repulsed her cruelly, and
used his influence against my uncle. She afterwards saw a letter which he
wrote to the governor, urging him to withhold a pardon. Now you have the
key to his hatred; now you understand why he wrote you nothing concerning
us. Not even Aunt Amy's coffin could shut in his hate. Irene, I must go
home now, for they will wonder what has become of me. I will