But at last ’Lena seemed better, and taking from the pillow the crumpled note, she passed it toward her father, bidding him read it. It was as follows; “MY LOST ’LENA: By this title it seems appropriate for me to call you, for you are more surely lost to me than you would be were this summer sun shining upon your grave. And, ’Lena, believe me when I say I would rather, far rather, see you dead than the guilty thing you are, for then your memory would be to me as a holy, blessed influence, leading me on to a better world, where I could hope to greet you as my spirit bride. But now, alas! how dark the cloud which shrouds you from my sight. “Oh, ’Lena, ’Lena, how could you deceive me thus, when I thought you so pure and innocent, when even now, I would willingly lay down my life could that save you from ruin. “Do you ask what I mean? I have only to refer you to what this morning took place between you and the vile man I once called father, and whom I believed to be the soul of truth and honor. With a heart full of tenderness toward you, I was hastening to your side, when a scene met my view which stilled the beatings of my pulse and curdled the very blood in my veins, I saw you throw your arms around _his_ neck—the husband of _my_ mother. I saw you lay your head upon his bosom. I heard him as he called you _dearest_, and said you would never be parted again! “You know all that has passed heretofore, and can you wonder that my worst fears are now confirmed? God knows how I struggled against those doubts, which were nearly removed, when, by the evidence of my own eyesight, uncertainty was made sure. “And now, my once loved, but erring ’Lena, farewell. I am going away—whither, I know not, care not, so that I never hear your name coupled with disgrace. Another reason why I go, is that the hot blood of the south burns too fiercely in my veins to suffer me to meet your destroyer and not raise my hand against him. When this reaches you, I shall be far away. But what matters it to you? And yet, ’Lena, there will come a time when you’ll remember one who, had you remained true to yourself, would have devoted his life to make you happy, for I know I am not indifferent to you. I have read it in your speaking eye, and in the childlike confidence with which you would yield to _me_ when no one else could control your wild ravings. “But enough of this. Time hastens, and I must say farewell—farewell forever—my _lost, lost_ ’Lena! “DURWARD.” Gradually as Mr. Graham read, he felt a glow of indignation at Durward’s hastiness. “Rash boy! he might at least have spoken with me,” said he, as he finished the letter, but ’Lena would hear no word of censure against him. She did not blame him. She saw it all, understood it all, and as she recalled the contents of his letter, her own heart sadly echoed, “_lost forever_.”