r, where is Mr. Willard Livermore--the gentleman who
rescued you from the Tiber--and his sister, also, who cared for you so
faithfully during your long illness?"

"Alice Livermore is in Philadelphia, where she has long been
practicing medicine for sweet charity's sake. Mr. Livermore is--here
in New York," Mrs. Stewart responded, but flushing slightly as she
spoke the name of the gentleman.

Something in her tone caused Edith to glance up curiously into her
face, and she read there, in the lovely flush and tender eye, which
told her that her mother regarded her deliverer with a sentiment far
stronger and deeper than that of mere gratitude or admiration.

"Ah! you--" she began, impulsively, and then stopped, confused.

"Yes, love," confessed the beautiful woman, with shining eyes, "I will
have no secrets from you--we both love each other with an everlasting
love; for long years this has been so; and had we been sure that there
existed no obstacle to our union, it is probable that I should have
married Mr. Livermore long ago. But we both believe in the Bible
ritual, and those words, 'until death doth part,' have been a barrier
which neither of us was willing to overleap. Each knows the heart of
the other; and, though it sometimes seems hard that our lives must be
divided, when our tastes are so congenial in every particular, yet we
have mutually decided that only as 'friends' have we the right to
clasp hands and greet each other in this world."

Edith put up her lips and softly kissed the flushed cheek nearest her.

"How I love and honor you!" she whispered.

"We will never speak about this again, if you please, dear," said
Isabel Stewart, in a slightly tremulous tone. "I wished you to know
the truth, but I cannot talk about it. I do not deny the affection;
that is something over which I have no control; but I can at least say
'thus far and no farther,' for the sake of conscience and
self-respect. Now, about that letter which was handed to you to-day,"
she continued, suddenly changing the subject. "Suppose we look it over
again, and then I think it should go directly into the hands of Mr.
Bryant."

She had hardly finished speaking when there came a knock upon her
door.

Rising, she opened it, to find a servant standing without and waiting
to deliver a card that lay upon a silver salver.

Mrs. Stewart took it and read the name of Royal Bryant, together with
the following lines, written in pencil:

"Will M