are
the only instructions I have to give you; all others must come from her
physician."

I made some reply with as little show of emotion as possible. It seemed
to satisfy him, for his face cleared as he kindly observed:

"You have a very trustworthy look for one so young. I shall rest easy
while you are with her, and I shall expect you to be always with her
when I am not. Every moment, mind. She is never to be left alone with
gossiping servants. If a word is mentioned in her hearing about this
crime which seems to be in everybody's mouth, I shall feel forced,
greatly as I should regret the fad, to blame you."

This was a heart-stroke, but I kept up bravely, changing color perhaps,
but not to such a marked degree as to arouse any deeper suspicion in his
mind than that I had been wounded in my amour propre.

"She shall be well guarded," said I. "You may trust me to keep from her
all avoidable knowledge of this crime."

He bowed and I was about to leave his presence, when he detained me
by remarking with the air of one who felt that some explanation was
necessary:

"I was at the ball where this crime took place. Naturally it has made a
deep impression on me and would on her if she heard of it."

"Assuredly," I murmured, wondering if he would say more and how I should
have the courage to stand there and listen if he did.

"It is the first time I have ever come in contact with crime," he went
on with what, in one of his reserved nature, seemed a hardly natural
insistence. "I could well have been spared the experience. A tragedy
with which one has been even thus remotely connected produces a lasting
effect upon the mind."

"Oh yes, oh yes!" I murmured, edging involuntarily toward the door. Did
I not know? Had I not been there, too; I, little I, whom he stood gazing
down upon from such a height, little realizing the fatality which united
us and, what was even a more overwhelming thought to me at the moment,
the fact that of all persons in the world the shrinking little being,
into whose eyes he was then looking, was, perhaps, his greatest enemy
and the one person, great or small, from whom he had the most to fear.

But I was no enemy to his gentle daughter and the relief I felt at
finding myself thus cut off by my own promise from even the remotest
communication with her on this forbidden subject was genuine and
sincere.

But the father! What was I to think of the father? Alas! I could have
but one thought, adm