“I think I shall go to White Sulphur Springs,” said Mrs. Wylde. “Have you decided where you shall go, Mrs. Falconer?” “No, I cannot come to a decision, so I shall leave it to my husband,” replied Pansy. “Oh, then you must go to White Sulphur! It is charming there,” cried Juliette, who wanted to go wherever the Wyldes went. “One place will please me quite as well as another,” Pansy replied indifferently; and when they took their leave it was quite understood that the Wyldes and the Falconers were to form a party for the springs as soon as possible. “But,” said dark-eyed Rosalind to her mother, “Juliette is going to be disappointed, for, of course, she thinks Norman is going with us.” “Norman must go. It is quite foolish, his being so stiff with us, and resenting things that were only done for his good,” Mrs. Wylde replied, in a displeased tone. When Pansy and Juliette were riding home, the latter observed: “Mrs. Falconer, did you notice what a strong resemblance that foundling child had to Norman Wylde?” Pansy looked at her with a startled air, and answered: “You know I’ve only seen Norman Wylde once, and can’t really recall his features exactly. Does the child really resemble him? And, if so, what does it mean?” “Norman Wylde has lived a very fast life, you know,” Juliette answered. “I have long suspected that the child is his own, flung upon his doorstep in desperation by some one of his victims. Perhaps he suspects, perhaps he does not--but I feel almost certain of its parentage.” “And the family?” Pansy asked faintly. “I do not believe they suspect anything. If they did, they would not permit it to be kept beneath their roof. They would be perfectly furious,” replied Juliette, with an air of certainty, and watching Pansy closely for some signs of emotion. But the beautiful girl seemed to grow suddenly weary of the subject, for she said: “I wonder if my trousseau will do for the White Sulphur, or if I ought to order anything new?” “You will not need a new thing, nor shall I, as I am in mourning, and cannot dance this season,” replied Juliette. As their carriage rolled along Grace Street, they saw Norman Wylde among the pedestrians on the pavement. He lifted his hat, and passed on without stopping, to the chagrin of Juliette, who hoped he would stop and chat with her a while. Her conscience did not reproach her for the falsehoods she had uttered against his fair fame, although she knew that there was not a purer, more high-minded young man in the whole city. But while she was still uncertain as to the identity of her uncle’s wife, it suited her best to pretend that Norman Wylde was dissolute and guilty. Although she suspected that little Pet was the child of Pansy Laurens, she was not certain, and she did not wish Mrs. Falconer to believe it.