“She whom Miss Bruce is good enough to call 'the brave lady' happened to know the truth, and that tempted her to try and baffle an anonymous slanderer, who was ruining the happiness of a lady and gentleman. Being a person of warm impulses, she went great lengths; but she now wishes to retire into the shade. She is flattered by Miss Bruce's desire to know her, and some day, perhaps, may remind her of it; but at present she must deny herself that honor. If her reasons were known, Miss Bruce would not be offended nor hurt; she would entirely approve them.” Soon after this, as Sir Charles Bassett sat by the fire, disconsolate, his servant told him a lady wanted to see him. “Who is it?” “Don't know, Sir Charles; but it is a kind of a sort of a nun, Sir Charles.” “Oh, a Sister of Charity! Perhaps the one that nursed me. Admit her, by all means.” The Sister came in. She had a large veil on. Sir Charles received her with profound respect, and thanked her, with some little hesitation, for her kind attention to him. She stopped him by saying that was merely her duty. “But,” said she, softly, “words fell from you, on the bed of sickness, that touched my heart; and besides I happen to know the lady.” “You know my Bella!” cried Sir Charles. “Ah, then no wonder you speak so kindly; you can feel what I have lost. She has left England to avoid me.” “All the better. Where she is the door cannot be closed in your face. She is at Baden. Follow her there. She has heard the truth from Mr. Oldfield, and she knows who wrote the anonymous letter.” “And who did?” “Mr. Richard Bassett.” This amazed Sir Charles. “The scoundrel!” said he, after a long silence. “Well, then, why let that fellow defeat you, for his own ends? I would go at once to Baden. Your leaving England would be one more proof to her that she has no rival. Stick to her like a man, sir, and you will win her, I tell you.” These words from a nun amazed and fired him. He rose from his chair, flushed with sudden hope and ardor. “I'll leave for Baden to-morrow morning.” The Sister rose to retire. “No, no,” cried Sir Charles. “I have not thanked you. I ought to go down on my knees and bless you for all this. To whom am I so indebted?” “No matter, sir.” “But it does matter. You nursed me, and perhaps saved my life, and now you give me back the hopes that make life sweet. You will not trust me with your name?” “We have no name.” “Your voice at times sounds very like--no, I will not affront you by such a comparison.” “I'm her sister,” said she, like lightning. This announcement quite staggered Sir Charles, and he was silent and uncomfortable. It gave him a chill. The Sister watched him keenly, but said nothing. Sir Charles did not know what to say, so he asked to see her face. “It must be as beautiful as your heart.” The Sister shook her head. “My face has been disfigured by a frightful disorder.” Sir Charles uttered an ejaculation of regret and pity.