eeks, as he listened to the sad recital, while his eyes lingered
affectionately upon the faithful girl who--as he learned from Mr.
Bryant--had so heroically tried to provide for the necessities of one
whom, it was evident, he had loved with more than ordinary affection.

When she had concluded her story he remained silent for a few moments,
as if to fortify himself for the revelations which he had to make;
then he remarked:

"Your mother and I, Miss Edith, were 'neighbors and playmates' during
our childhood--'schoolmates and friends' for long years afterward, she
would have told you; but--ever since I can remember, she was the
dearest object the world held for me. This affection grew with my
growth until, when I was twenty-one years of age, I asked her to marry
me. Her answer was like obscuring the sun at midday, for she told me
that she loved another; she had met Albert Allendale, and he had won,
apparently without an effort, what I had courted for many years. I
could not blame her, for I was but too conscious that he was my
superior, both physically and mentally, while the position he offered
her was far above anything I could hope to give her--at least, for a
long time. But it was a terrible blow to me, and I immediately left
the country, feeling that I could never remain here to witness the
happiness that had been denied me. During my exile I heard from them
occasionally, through others, and of the ideal life they were leading;
but I never once thought of returning to this country until about six
months ago, when, my health suddenly failing, I felt that I would at
least like to die upon my native soil. You can, perhaps, imagine the
shock I experienced, upon arriving in New York, when I learned of Mr.
Allendale's misfortunes and death, and also that his wife and only
surviving child had been left destitute and were hiding themselves and
their poverty in some remote corner, unknown to their former friends.
I searched the city for you, and then, discouraged with my lack of
success, I put my case into the hands of Mr. Bryant, from whom I
learned of the death of your mother and your brave struggles with want
and hardships; whereupon I commissioned him to spare no effort or
expense to find you; hence the advertisement which, his note to me
last evening told me, met your eye in a Boston paper, and brought you
hither."

"What a strange, romantic story!" Edith murmured, as Mr. Raymond
paused at this point; "and, although