hen my daughter is with me," said
she, simply; "and it is quiet."

George Brand sat with his hands clinched. Every moment he thought he
should hear Natalie knock at the door below.

"Madame," he said, with some little hesitation, "something has happened
of serious importance--I mean, of a little importance. When Natalie
comes I must tell her--"

"And you wish to see her alone, perhaps?" said the mother, lightly. "Why
not? And listen--it is she herself, I believe!"

A minute afterward the door was opened, and Natalie entered, radiant,
happy, with glad eyes. Then she started when she saw George Brand there,
but there was no fear in her look. On the contrary, she embraced her
mother; then she went to him, and said, with a pleased flush in her
face,

"I had no message this morning. You did not care, then, for our little
bunch of flowers?"

He took her hand, and held it for a second.

"I thought I should see you to-day, Natalie; I have something to tell
you."

Her face grew graver.

"Is it something serious?"

"Well," said he, to gain time, for the mother was still in the room, "it
is serious or not serious, as you like to take it. It does not involve
the fate of a nation, for example."

"It is mysterious, at all events."

At this moment the elder woman took occasion to slip noiselessly from
the room.

"Natalie," said he, "sit down here by me."

She put the footstool on which she was accustomed to sit at her mother's
side close to his chair, and seated herself. He took her hand and held
it tight.

"Natalie," said he, in a low voice--and he was himself rather pale--"I
am going to tell you something that may perhaps startle you, and even
grieve you; but you must keep command over yourself, or you will alarm
your mother--"

"You are not in danger?" she cried, quickly, but in a low voice: there
was something in his tone that alarmed her.

"The thing is simple enough," he said, with a forced composure. "You
know that when one has joined a certain Society, and especially when one
has accepted the responsibilities I have, there is nothing that may not
be demanded. Look at this ring, Natalie."

"Yes, yes," she said, breathlessly.

"That is a sufficient pledge, even if there were no others. I have sworn
allegiance to the Society at all hazards; I cannot retreat now."

"But is it so very terrible?" she said, hurriedly. "Dearest, I will
come over to you in America. I have told my mother; she will take me to