any prospect of being a bride myself."

They went away for their honeymoon to a quiet place by the seaside, not
very far from the town in which Eunice had passed some of the happiest
and the wretchedest days in her life. She persisted in thinking it
possible that Mr. Gracedieu might recover the use of his faculties,
at the last, and might wish to see her on his death-bed. "His adopted
daughter," she gently reminded me, "is his only daughter now." The
doctor shook his head when I told him what Eunice had said to me--and,
the sad truth must be told, the doctor was right.

Miss Jillgall returned, on the wedding-day, to take care of the good man
who had befriended her in her hour of need.

Before the end of the week, I heard from her, and was disagreeably
reminded of an incident which we had both forgotten, absorbed as we were
in other and greater interests, at the time.

Mrs. Tenbruggen had again appeared on the scene! She had written to Miss
Jillgall, from Paris, to say that she had heard of old Mr. Dunboyne's
death, and that she wished to have the letter returned, which she had
left for delivery to Philip's father on the day when Philip and Eunice
were married. I had my own suspicions of what that letter might contain;
and I regretted that Miss Jillgall had sent it back without first
waiting to consult me. My misgivings, thus excited, were increased
by more news of no very welcome kind. Mrs. Tenbruggen had decided on
returning to her professional pursuits in England. Massage, now the
fashion everywhere, had put money into her pocket among the foreigners;
and her husband, finding that she persisted in keeping out of his reach,
had consented to a compromise. He was ready to submit to a judicial
separation; in consideration of a little income which his wife had
consented to settle on him, under the advice of her lawyer.

Some days later, I received a delightful letter from Philip and Eunice;
reminding me that I had engaged to pay them a visit at the seaside. My
room was ready for me, and I was left to choose my own day. I had
just begun to write my reply, gladly accepting the invitation, when
an ominous circumstance occurred. My servant announced "a lady"; and I
found myself face to face with--Mrs. Tenbruggen!

She was as cheerful as ever, and as eminently agreeable as ever.

"I have heard it all from Selina," she said. "Philip's marriage
to Eunice (I shall go and congratulate them, of course), and the
catastrophe (