by a
lightning's flash, both the nature of the feeling that prompted this
unusual manifestation on his part, and the possible sorrows that lay
before her dearest friend, if not before herself, should the secret
suspicions she cherished in regard to Mr. Sylvester prove true. When she
had summoned up courage to glance again in their direction, Mr.
Stuyvesant had entered the parlor and was nervously welcoming his
guests.

Mr. Sylvester waited for no preamble. "I have come," said he, in his
most even and determined tones, "to speak to you in regard to a
communication from a man by the name of Holt, which I was told was to be
sent to you last evening. Did you receive such a one?"

Mr. Stuyvesant flushed, grew still more nervous in his manner and
uttered a short, "I did," in a tone severer than he perhaps intended.

"It will not be too much for me, then, to conclude, that in your present
estimation my nephew stands committed to a past dishonesty?"

"It has been one of my chief sources of regret--one of them I say,"
repeated Mr. Stuyvesant, "that any loss of esteem on the part of your
nephew, must necessarily reflect upon the peace if not the honor of a
man I hold in such high regard as yourself. I assure you I feel it quite
as a brother might, quite as a brother."

Mr. Sylvester at once rose. "Mr. Stuyvesant," declared he, "my nephew is
as honest a man as walks this city's streets. If you will accord me a
few minutes private conversation, I think I can convince you so."

"I should be very glad," replied Mr. Stuyvesant, glancing towards the
extension-room where he had left his daughter. "I have always liked the
young man." Then with a quick look in the other's face, "You are not
well, Mr. Sylvester?"

"Thank you, I am not ill; let us say what we have to, at once, if you
please." And with just a glance at Paula, he followed the now somewhat
agitated director from the room.

Cicely who had started forward at their departure, glanced down the long
parlor before her, and hastily faltered back; Paula was praying. But in
a few moments her feelings overcame her timidity, and hurrying into her
friend's presence, she threw her arms about her neck and pressed her
cheek to hers. "Let us pray together," she whispered.

Paula drew back and looked her friend in the face. "You know what all
this means?" she asked.

"I guess," was the low reply.

Paula checked a sob and clasped Cicely to her bosom. "He loves me," she
faltered, "