"My love, my own Pauline, you will break my heart if you do so. Our love is the same; it can undergo no change. My affection for you has been so selfish, that it has been my only fear with regard to you, that some one would claim you as their child; or as has happened, that some one would win your love from your mother." "Oh, mamma," said she joyfully, "I will give him up. I understood it was your wish. Indeed I told Eugene I did not wish him to consider it an engagement. We are too young." "Dearest Pauline, I only told you to show you how strong was my affection for you." After two hours, during which time I had but partially succeeded in calming her excited feelings, I showed her the locket, which affected her exceedingly, as also the letter from her mother to the servant. She held the tiny robe in her hand, while her tears fell hot and fast upon it. I told her that on no account would I allow Nelly and Franky to be made aware of what had passed. "I shall tell Eugene?" she said inquiringly. "If you think it best, love." "Of course, I only meant whether you or I should tell him. He asked what I considered strange questions the second time I saw him. But I thought it would only pain you to hear them, so I did not repeat what he said. He asked if I had ever been abroad before. I told him "no." He then asked if I were nearly connected with this family, when I laughed and told him, 'my resemblance to father was proof of that fact.' He apologized, and said he had only asked me to satisfy his father." She took the locket, putting the chain around her neck, and bidding me good night, left me. But it was a sleepless night to both of us. The questions of Eugene, to satisfy his father,--the doubts of Joseph were constantly recurring to me. Frank comforted me by saying I had done right in telling her what I had. After midnight I crept softly to her room, shading the lamp with my hand, and found her eyes wide open. She had thrown her arm over her sleeping sister, and had vainly tried to sleep. "I have been trying to think who I am, mamma," said she in a sad voice. "You are my own darling, Pauline," I said, kissing her again and again. "She looks happy and kind," alluding to the picture, "but how could she give me up so?" I begged her to try to sleep, and returned to my bed to make the same effort. The next morning she did not go down to breakfast, merely took a cup of coffee in her room; but begged me to let her know when Eugene came in. I did so, when she instantly came down to him equipped for a walk. I attempted to remonstrate, fearing she was not well enough; but she said, "please, mamma," in so sad a voice, I could say no more. It was nearly noon. Joseph had two or three times volunteered to go in search of Pauline, for whom I felt great anxiety, when a man came running, breathless with speed, begging me to go to Colonel Clifford. He was dying.