She crushed the paper convulsively in her slender fingers, and stared before her with wide, blue eyes that saw not the luxurious appointments of the elegant room, but a picture evoked from the recesses of her brain--a picture of the past. A rocky, sea-beat shore, with the soft breeze of summer lifting the golden curls from a girl's white brow as it rested against a manly breast. Blue eyes were meeting brown ones, hand was clasped in hand, and love was lord of that tender scene. A moan of pain came from the lips of beautiful Azalia, and she sighed: "Ah, love, why did you leave me, without a word, to my cruel fate? Were you false in heart? Were you only amusing yourself with the simple child who loved you so well? Was that marriage true, or only a sham, or was there treachery somewhere? Treachery! It looked at me from Jewel's eyes--treachery and murderous hate! Ah, love, you died so soon after you went away that I can not hate you in your grave, even though you doomed me to a wretched life, cursed with memories that will not die! And I--I--would give the world to know the truth--to solve the mystery of your going that night!" The low voice broke again, and she leaned back pale and silent, and a sadder picture rose in fancy before the fixed blue eyes. This time it was of a golden-haired, blue-eyed girl, with a wailing infant on her breast--a girl who had sought refuge from danger in an humble negro cabin. Over her was bending a plump, good-looking mulatto woman, and the girl was praying, feebly: "Take me away from here! Hide me and my baby from our enemy!" The mulatto woman had acted the part of the good Samaritan to the helpless, suffering girl. All night she had worked hard preparing a place in an old, unused barn, where she could hide the sick mother and the tiny babe, and care for them in secret. So it happened that, through her care and prudence, the mother and child fared well, and remained undiscovered in their miserable retreat, while weeks sped away and the world accepted Jewel Fielding's assertion that her sister was dead--drowned in the deep sea. At last four weary, interminable weeks passed away, and the beautiful young mother was growing strong and well again. On the morrow she had planned to take her baby in her arms and fly from the place so fraught with perils. She said to the good friend who had cared for her so nobly, that she must go into the world and work for a living for herself and the child. But when that morrow dawned--and at the picture that rose in her mind Azalia sobbed aloud--the girl awoke from slumber and found beneath her breast a little, pulseless form, from which breath had so lately fled that the body was still limp and warm. Poor, puny babe! its feeble little life was ended, she thought, as she clasped and kissed it with raining tears and breaking heart. A few minutes later her good friend came in and found what had happened. She mingled her tears with those of the bereaved mother.