uch poverty again. And then, it is my honour!"

I felt that she would not have given way thus had not her nerves been
shaken, had she not lived so much alone, and irregularly, so far as her
own rest and comfort were concerned, and at such perpetual cost to her
energy. Mrs. Falchion, I knew, was selfish, and would not, or could
not, see that she was hard upon the girl, by such exactions as midnight
reading and loss of sleep. She demanded not merely physical but mental
energy--a complete submission of both; and when this occurred with a
sensitive, high-strung girl, she was literally feeding on another's
life-blood. If she had been told this, she, no doubt, would have been
very much surprised.

I reassured Justine. I told her that I should say nothing directly
to Mrs. Falchion, for I saw she was afraid of unpleasantness; but I
impressed upon her that she must spare herself, or she would break
down, and extorted a promise that she would object to sitting up after
midnight to read to Mrs. Falchion.

When this was done, she said: "But, you see, it is not madame's fault
that I am troubled."

"I do not wish," I said, "to know any secret,--I am a doctor, not a
priest,--but if there is anything you can tell me, in which I might
be able to help you, you may command me in so far as is possible."
Candidly, I think I was too inquiring in those days.

She smiled wistfully, and replied: "I will think of what you say so
kindly, and perhaps, some day soon, I will tell you of such trouble as
I have. But, believe me, it is no question of wrong at all, by any
one--now. The wrong is over. It is simply that a debt of honour must be
satisfied; it concerns my poor dead brother."

"Are you going to relatives in France?" I asked.

"No; I have no relatives, no near friends. I am alone in the world. My
mother I cannot remember; she died when I was very young. My father had
riches, but they went before he died. Still, France is home, and I must
go there." She turned her head away to the long wastes of sea.

Little more passed between us. I advised her to come often on deck,
and mingle with the passengers; and told her that, when she pleased, I
should be glad to do any service that lay in my power. Her last words
were that, after we put into Aden, she would possibly take me at my
word.

After she had gone, I found myself wondering at my presentiment that
Aden was to be associated with critical points in the history of some of
us; and from