is home-bursts of affection. I was
plain and a widow; no mate for her in age, condition or estate. She
could neither look up to me nor lean upon me. I had been her nurse in
childhood and though a relative, was still a dependent; what was there
in all that to love! If her mother had lived--But we will not dwell on
possibilities. Jacqueline had no mother and no friend that was dear
enough to her, to teach her unwilling soul the great lesson of
self-control and sacrifice.

"You will say that is strange. That situated as she was, she ought to
have found friends both dear and congenial; but that would be to declare
that Jacqueline was like others of her age and class, whereas she was
single and alone; a dark-browed girl, who allured the gaze of both men
and women, but who cared but little for any one till--But wait, child. I
shall have to speak of matters that will cause your cheeks to blush. Lay
your head down on my knee, for I cannot bear the sight of blushes upon a
cheek more innocent than hers."

With a gentle movement she urged Paula to sit upon a little stool at her
feet, pressed the young girl's head down upon her lap, and burying the
lovely brow beneath her aged hands, went hurriedly on.

"You are young, dear, and may not know what it is to love a man.
Jacqueline was young also, but from the moment she returned home to us
from a visit she had been making in Boston, I perceived that something
had entered her life that was destined to make a great change in her;
and when a few weeks later, young Robert Holt from Boston, came to pay
his respects to her in her father's house, I knew, or thought I did,
what that something was. We were sitting in this room I remember, when
the servant-girl came in, and announced that Mr. Holt was in the parlor.
Jacqueline was lying on the sofa, and her father was in his usual chair
by the table. At the name, Holt, the girl rose as if it had suddenly
thundered, or the lightning had flashed. I see her now. She was dressed
in white--though it was early fall she still clung to her summer
dresses--her dark hair was piled high, and caught here and there with
old-fashioned gold pins, a splendid red rose burned on her bosom, and
another flashed crimson as blood from her folded hands.

"'Holt?' repeated the Colonel without turning his head, 'I know no such
man.'

"'He said he wished to see Miss Jacqueline,' simpered the servant.

"'Oh,' returned the Colonel indifferently. He never showed su