. I had not looked upon him since the little black, silky head
drooped on my arm while I exchanged the dresses. You may partly
imagine what I suffered. And now he and Eulalia are getting in love
with each other; and I know not what is to be done. When you came in,
I was praying for strength to seek your counsel. What _can_ we do,
dear? It will be a great disappointment for you to return to Europe,
now that you have refitted your father's house, and made all your
arrangements to spend the remainder of our days here."

"I would do it willingly," he replied, "if I thought it would avail
to separate Gerald and Eulalia. But a voyage to Europe is nothing
now-a-days, to people of their property. I believe he loves the
dear girl; and if he did not, my reputed millions would prevent his
grandfather and his mother from allowing him to lose sight of her. If
we were to build a castle on the top of Mount Himalaya, they would
scale it, you may depend. I see no other remedy than to tell Gerald
that Eulalia is his sister."

"O, I cannot tell him!" exclaimed she. "It would be so dreadful to
have my son hate me! And he _would_ hate me; for I can see that he is
very proud."

In very kind and serious tones he replied: "You know, dear Rosa, that
you expressed a wish the other day to go to the Catholic church in
which your mother worshipped, because you thought confession and
penance would be a comfort. You have wisely chosen me for your
confessor, and if I recommend penance I trust you will think it best
to follow my advice. I see how difficult it would be to tell all your
own and your mother's story to so young a man as Gerald, and he your
own son. I will tell him; and I need not assure you that you will have
a loving advocate to plead your cause with him. But his mother must
know why he relinquishes Eulalia, when he has had so much reason to
think himself in favor both with her and her parents. Gerald might
tell her the mere external facts; but she could appreciate and
understand them much better if told, as they would be told, by a
delicate and loving woman, who had suffered the wrongs that drove her
to madness, and who repented bitterly of the fault she had committed.
I think you ought to make a full confession to Mrs. Fitzgerald; and
having done that, we ought to do whatever she chooses to prescribe."

"It will be a severe penance," she rejoined; "but I will do whatever
you think is right. If I could have all the suffering, I would