op
and think about it, but it's best not to. What you need is the
companionship of some cheerful girl about your own age and fewer hours
with only yourself for company." Then he added thoughtfully, "I wish you
could visit Alice for a few months. She would drive the megrims out of
your mind."

"I should be glad to have her come and visit me," replied Telly eagerly,
and in her simple sincerity adding, "I am sure I should love her."

Albert had hard work to restrain a smile, but he was none the less
charmed by her frankness. "I wish she could," he answered, "but she is a
school-teacher and that duty keeps her occupied most of the time. I
shall bring her down here next summer," he added earnestly. Then feeling
it unfair to conceal the fact that he knew her history any longer, he
said, "I beg your pardon, Miss Terry, but I know what is at the bottom
of your melancholy moods and I knew it the second night I was here last
summer. Your father told me your history then."

"He did?" she replied, turning her pleading eyes upon him in surprise;
"you knew my unfortunate history that night?"

"I did, every word of it," he answered tenderly, "and I should have told
you I did if I had not been afraid it would hurt you to know I knew it
then."

Her eyes fell and a look of pain came into her face.

Then perhaps the quick sympathy she had shown regarding the pictures, or
the pathos of that look, or both, made him a trifle reckless. Such
things are apt to have that effect upon a young man rapidly entering the
illusion of love.

"Please banish this mood from now on and never let it return," he said
hastily; "I have come to tell you that in the near future the mystery of
your life may be solved, and what is better, that a legacy awaits your
claiming. The matter has been in the hands of an unprincipled lawyer for
some months, as no doubt Mr. Terry has told you, but now he is dead and
I have taken hold of it, and shall not rest until you have your rights.
We shall know what your heritage is and all about your ancestors in a
few months." Then he added tenderly, "Would it pain you to hear more
about it, or would you rather not?"

"Father has told me a little of it," she answered, "but I know he has
kept most of the trouble to himself. It's his way. Since he came back
from Boston he has acted like his old self, and no words can tell how
glad I am. As for the money, it must and shall go to him, every penny of
it, and all the comfort I ca