l-omened place Penrose and his companions have
made their daring pilgrimage; and they are now risking their lives in
the attempt to open the hearts of these bloodthirsty savages to the
influence of Christianity. Nothing has been yet heard of them. At the
best, no trustworthy news is expected for months to come.

What will Stella say to this? Anyhow, I begin to understand her interest
in Penrose now. He is one of a company of heroes. I am already anxious
to hear more of him.

To-morrow will be a memorable day in my calendar. To-morrow I leave Rome
for St. Germain.

If any further information is to be gained for Mrs. Eyrecourt and her
daughter, I have made the necessary arrangements for receiving it. The
banker has promised to write to me, if there is a change in Romayne's
life and prospects. And my landlord will take care that I hear of it, in
the event of news reaching Rome from the Mission at Arizona.

Sixth Extract.

St. Germain, March 14.--I arrived yesterday. Between the fatigue of the
journey and the pleasurable agitation caused by seeing Stella again, I
was unfit to make the customary entry in my diary when I retired for the
night.

She is more irresistibly beautiful than ever. Her figure (a little too
slender as I remember it) has filled out. Her lovely face has lost its
haggard, careworn look; her complexion has recovered its delicacy; I see
again in her eyes the pure serenity of expression which first fascinated
me, years since. It may be due to the consoling influence of the
child--assisted, perhaps, by the lapse of time and the peaceful life
which she now leads--but this at least is certain, such a change for the
better I never could have imagined as the change I find in Stella after
a year's absence.

As for the baby, he is a bright, good-humored little fellow; and he has
one great merit in my estimation--he bears no resemblance to his father.
I saw his mother's features when I first took him on my knee, and
looked at his face, lifted to mine in grave surprise. The baby and I are
certain to get on well together.

Even Mrs. Eyrecourt seems to have improved in the French air, and under
the French diet. She has a better surface to lay the paint on; her
nimble tongue runs faster than ever; and she has so completely recovered
her good spirits, that Monsieur and Madame Villeray declare she must
have French blood in her veins. They were all so unaffectedly glad to
see me (Matilda included), that it was re