ached to the
banker's note of the deposit. "Tell him," she whispered, "not to love me
less in my mutilation;" and again she relapsed into unconsciousness.

The photographer now bent over the senseless form of his victim, and
muttering, "Yes, carbon in combustion," added, in a softened tone, "Poor
girl!" As he lifted his face, I detected a solitary tear course down
his impressive features. "The first I have shed," said he, sternly,
"since my daughter's death."

Saying nothing, I could only think--"And this wretch once had a child!"

The long night through we stood around her bed. With the dawn, Martha,
the housekeeper, returned, and we then learned, for the first time, with
what consummate skill Pollexfen had laid all his plans. For even the
housekeeper had been sent out of the way, and on a fictitious pretense
that she was needed at the bedside of a friend, whose illness was
feigned for the occasion. Nor was the day over before we learned with
certainty, but no longer with surprise, that Cloudsdale was on his way
to Panama, with a bribe in his pocket.

As soon as it was safe to remove Lucile, she was borne on a litter to
the hospital of Dr. Peter Smith, where she received every attention that
her friends could bestow.

Knowing full well, from what Lucile had told me, that Courtland would be
down in the Sacramento boat, I awaited his arrival with the greatest
impatience. I could only surmise what would be his course. But judging
from my own feelings, I could not doubt that it would be both desperate
and decisive.

Finally, the steamer rounded to, and the next moment the pale, emaciated
form of the youth sank, sobbing, into my arms. Other tears mingled with
his own.

The story was soon told. Eagerly, most eagerly, Courtland read the
little note accompanying the bankbook. It was very simple, and ran thus:

MY OWN LIFE'S LIFE: Forgive the first, and only act, that you
will ever disapprove of in the conduct of your mutilated but
loving Lucile. Ah! can I still hope for your love, in the future,
as in the past? Give me but that assurance, and death itself
would be welcome.

L. M.

We parted very late; he going to a hotel, I to the bedside of the
wounded girl. Our destinies would have been reversed, but the surgeon's
order was imperative, that she should see no one whose presence might
conduce still further to bring on inflammation of the brain