f victors."

The man knew that what the lawyer said was true, but he was so enraged
over his inability to help himself that he was utterly reckless, and
cried out, fiercely:

"Do your worst--I defy you to the last! And now, the quicker you
relieve me of your presence the better I shall like it."

The young lawyer took up his hat, bowed politely to his defeated foe,
and quietly left the room, very well satisfied with the result of his
morning's work.

All the necessary forms of law were complied with to release Edith
from even a seeming alliance with the man who had been so determined
to win her.

An announcement was inserted in the Boston papers explaining as much
as was deemed necessary, and thus the fair girl was free!--free to
give herself to him whom her heart had chosen.

Then she was formally adopted by Mrs. Stewart, the old schoolmate of
the late Mrs. Allandale, and a little later, when they were settled in
their elegant residence on one of the fashionable avenues, society was
bidden to a great feast to honor the new relationship and to
congratulate the charming hostess and her beautiful daughter, who was
thus restored to a position she was so well fitted to grace.

At the same time Edith's engagement to the young lawyer was announced,
and it seemed to the happy young couple as if the future held for them
only visions of joy.

True to his promise, Roy gave Emil Correlli the week specified to
decide either for or against Giulia; then, not having heard from him,
he instituted proceedings to establish her claim upon him.

Correlli did not appear to defend himself, consequently the court
indorsed her petition and awarded her a handsome maintenance.

Once only Gerald Goddard met his daughter after she learned the facts
relating to her birth and parentage.

They suddenly came face to face, one morning, in one of the up-town
parks. He looked ill and wretched; his hair had become white as snow,
his face thin and pale, and his clothing hung loosely about him.

"Pardon me," he began, in uncertain tones, while he searched her face
wistfully. "No doubt you despise me too thoroughly to wish to hold any
intercourse with me; still, I feel that I must tell you how deeply I
regret, and ask your pardon for, what occurred in the dressing-room at
Wyoming on the last night of that 'winter frolic.'"

Edith's tender heart could not fail to experience a feeling of
sympathy for the proud man in his humiliated and broken s