ing is good news."

Romayne came in before he could speak more particularly. When the
servants had left the room, after dinner, the Major made his report.

"I am going to agreeably surprise you," he began. "All responsibility
toward the General's family is taken off our hands. The ladies are on
their way back to France."

Stella was instantly reminded of one of the melancholy incidents
associated with her visit to Camp's Hill. "Madame Marillac spoke of
a brother of hers who disapproved of the marriage," she said. "Has he
forgiven her?"

"That is exactly what he has done, Mrs. Romayne. Naturally enough, he
felt the disgrace of his sister's marriage to such a man as the General.
Only the other day he heard for the first time that she was a widow--and
he at once traveled to England. I bade them good-by yesterday--most
happily reunited--on their journey home again. Ah, I thought you would
be glad, Mrs. Romayne, to hear that the poor widow's troubles are over.
Her brother is rich enough to place them all in easy circumstances--he
is as good a fellow as ever lived."

"Have you seen him?" Stella asked, eagerly.

"I have been with him to the asylum."

"Does the boy go back to France?"

"No. We took the place by surprise, and saw for ourselves how well
conducted it was. The boy has taken a strong liking to the proprietor--a
bright, cheerful old man, who is teaching him some of our English games,
and has given him a pony to ride on. He burst out crying, poor creature,
at the idea of going away--and his mother burst out crying at the idea
of leaving him. It was a melancholy scene You know what a good mother
is--no sacrifice is too great for her. The boy stays at the asylum, on
the chance that his healthier and happier life there may help to cure
him. By-the-way, Romayne, his uncle desires me to thank you--"

"Hynd! you didn't tell the uncle my name?"

"Don't alarm yourself. He is a gentleman, and when I told him I was
pledged to secrecy, he made but one inquiry--he asked if you were a rich
man. I told him you had eighteen thousand a year."

"Well?"

"Well, he set that matter right between us with perfect taste. He
said: 'I cannot presume to offer repayment to a person so wealthy. We
gratefully accept our obligation to our kind unknown friend. For the
future, however, my nephew's expenses must be paid from my purse.' Of
course I could only agree to that. From time to time the mother is
to hear, and I am to hear, how