BUT day after day passed and every inquiry proved unavailing. No one knew any thing of a man by that name. Mr. Wallingford then engaged the police to continue the search, which was equally unsuccessful; and they were forced to the conclusion that Mr. Dudley was not a resident in Rome. "But may he not have taken another name?" suggested Gertrude. "I have thought of that; but what good will it do you to see him? What object is there in hunting for one who when found very likely will cause you fresh grief. You were forgetting him; and I consider it very unfortunate that he ever came in your path." "I have never forgotten to pray for him one day since we parted," faltered Gertrude, turning to leave the room. Mr. Wallingford did, indeed, consider it a misfortune, when he witnessed the effect of this incident on his sister. She grew nervous and excitable; restless when in doors; and when out, continually on the watch for one who never came. November was half through, when late one night a boy came to the villa, asking a servant to let him see the mistress. Gertrude sat alone in her chamber, having removed her dress, and wrapped herself in a rich cashmere robe. She directed the servant, in an indifferent tone, to send the boy to her door. He addressed her in Italian; "I was to give you this," putting a soiled paper in her hand. She took it in the ends of her fingers, went toward the light, supposing it to be an application for alms; but no sooner did her eye fall on the signature, than her whole being seemed changed. She rang the bell repeatedly, sending one servant to her brother's room to ask him to come to her immediately; another, she directed to call a carriage, while a third was despatched for all the luxuries the house could afford. Then locking the door of her room she threw herself on her knees. "My God, I thank thee," she murmured. "Give me this soul in answer to my earnest prayers. Help me to forgive my poor, erring husband, even as my Saviour has forgiven me." A knock at the door interrupted her, and presently she put the paper into Edward's hands. "Read that," she exclaimed. "Read it and come with me to the bed of a dying man." She was fearfully excited, more than he had ever seen her. He put his hand on her shoulder saying, firmly: "Gertrude, you must be more calm. I will not allow you to go, until you promise to control yourself." There was a flash in her eye which reminded him of former years. "You cannot prevent me. You have no right to keep me from my husband." "He is not your husband, Gerty. You do not know but he may have married again." She gasped for breath, throwing up her hands in horror. "I never thought that possible," she murmured faintly. He left her for a moment; and then returned to find her making a great effort to control herself.