_her_
room too!" she fearfully whispered; "and what he did there no one knows,
but when he came out he locked the door, and this morning the cook heard
him give orders to Samuel to have the trunks that were ready in Mrs.
Sylvester's room taken away. O Miss, do you think he can be going to
give all those beautiful things to you?"

Paula recoiled in horror. "Sarah!" said she, and could say no more. The
vision of that tall form gliding through the desolate house at midnight,
bending over the soulless finery of his dead wife, perhaps stowing it
away in boxes, came with too powerful a suggestion to her mind.

"Shure, I thought you would be pleased," murmured the girl and
disappeared again into one of the dim recesses.

"Will he let me go without a word?"

"Miss Paula, Mr. Bertram Sylvester is waiting at the door in a
carriage," came in low respectful tones to her ears, and Samuel's face
full of regret appeared at the top of the stairs.

"I am coming," murmured the sad-hearted girl, and with a sob which she
could not control, she took her last look of the pretty pink chamber in
which she had dreamed so many dreams of youthful delight, and perhaps of
youthful sorrow also, and slowly descended the stairs. Suddenly as she
was passing a door on the second floor, she heard a low deep cry.

"Paula!"

She stopped and her hand went to her heart, the reaction was so sudden.
"Yes," she murmured, standing still with great heart-beats of joy, or
was it pain?

The door slowly opened. "Did you think I could let you go without a
blessing, my Paula, my little one!" came in those deep heart-tones which
always made her tears start. And Mr. Sylvester stepped out of the
shadows beyond and stood in the shadows at her side.

"I did not know," she murmured. "I am so young, so feeble, such a mote
in this great atmosphere of anguish. I longed to see you, to say
good-bye, to thank you, but--" tears stopped her words; this was a
parting that rent her leader heart.

Mr. Sylvester watched her and his deep chest rose spasmodically.
"Paula," said he, and there was a depth in his tone even she had never
heard before, "are these tears for me?"

With a strong effort she controlled herself, looked up and faintly
smiled. "I am an orphan," she gently murmured; "you have been kind and
tender to me beyond words; I have let myself love you as a father."

A spasm crossed his features, the hand he had lifted to lay upon her
head fell at his side, he s