He sat down by the matron's side and gazed sympathetically into her still youthful-looking and handsome face. "Miss Brooke left you no address when she went away, I presume?" he inquired in a tone of respectful anxiety. Mrs. Brooke had received her cue from Bertha and answered accordingly: "No. She has deserted us most heartlessly, and I fear, I fear"---- she broke down and buried her face in her handkerchief. "You do not suppose that she can have made away with herself?" he cried in low, awe-struck tones. "No, no; worse, far worse," groaned the apparently deeply agitated woman. "Oh, Mr. Kenmore, pity the grief and shame of a heart-broken mother--I fear that Elaine has returned to her wicked deceiver." "Impossible!" he exclaimed, in stern and startled tones. "Would that I could think so," sighed the unjust mother. "But my heart is torn by cruel suspicions. Elaine has never ceased to love that wicked wretch, and to whom else can she have gone?" To herself she said, self-excusingly: "Poor Elaine, I would not blacken her name still more, only to help Bertha. If she marries him I shall manage to let him find out the real truth about Elaine directly afterward. She shall not lie under that base imposition any longer than is necessary for Bertha's welfare." She was startled when she saw how reproachfully and sternly his brown eyes gleamed upon her. "A mother is the last person to impute sin to her child," he said. Mrs. Brooke only sobbed into her handkerchief by way of answer to this reproach. "I have become deeply interested in your daughter's sad story, Mrs. Brooke," he went on. "Pray do not think me inquisitive if I ask you one question." She looked it him in startled surprise. "It is only this, Mrs. Brooke," he said. "Will you tell me in what city lived the man who so cruelly wronged beautiful Elaine?" "It can do no good to rake up these old things," she said, half-fretfully. "It was only a single question. It cannot hurt you to answer," he said, almost pleadingly. She said to herself that it could not matter indeed, and she did not wish to offend the young man whom she hoped to capture for her son-in-law. "It is very painful re-opening these old wounds," she sighed; "but since you insist upon it I will answer your question. The young villain lived at Richmond." He bowed his thanks. "I already know his name," he said, "and since you have no son to send upon this delicate mission, Mrs. Brooke, I will make it my business to inquire if your elder daughter has indeed deserted you for her base betrayer." She was about to protest against his doing so on the first pretext she could think of, when Bertha's entrance suddenly closed the conversation. He made his adieux and departed, giving an evasive reply to the young lady's wishes for his swift return. One week later Mrs. Brooke received a letter from him dated at Richmond.