"Again threatening a visit? But why should that make you look so serious? Are you thinking of his displeasure at not finding his Barbara an Arabella Goddard?" "Thank God, I never held out that prospect to him. No--" she continued, absently; "I don't like his letters, and I fear Mrs. Wardor misunderstands him--misunderstands him entirely. He inquires very particularly for Lady Clare in his letters, too." "And not for you? Ah! then the cat's out of the bag," she laughed; "you are jealous of me again." "The vanity of some people--" Christine joined in the laugh; but the troubled look returned to her face as she went on. "That poor old man troubles me too; he is failing fast, and his son must come soon, or I fear he will never see him again." "Then why not send for him?" asked Clara, innocently; "or does he not know where to find him?" "No," answered Christine, savagely, after a moment's hesitation. "Poor old man," sighed Clara; and she was careful after this to meet the forlorn figure wandering restlessly through the grounds with all the sweet consideration it was her nature to show those who were in pain or trouble. Still the old man never spoke to her of his Rudolph as he did to Christine; it was to the brave-hearted German girl he poured out his long pent-up complaints and lamentations; it was only to her he revealed how the yearning for his first-born was eating his heart away. Often she was on the point of telling him all; he would say then, she thought, that she had acted quite correctly; would commend her for not having fastened herself with her accursed name upon a blameless man, with fame and fortune before him. But he would still demand at her hands his son--his son whom she, more than himself, had made an exile and a wanderer. So the day passed on, and the cloud on the horizon of Lone Linden grew darker and heavier; but no one saw it gathering save Christine. Instinctively she felt that their fair Paradise would be destroyed when the storm should burst, but she knew not how to divert the threatened deluge. When Clara rushed into her arms one day, flushed and breathless, crying, "Oh, I knew he loved me--I felt that he had never forgotten me," her heart misgave her--the first harbinger of threatened desolation had come. With difficulty she prevailed on Clara to tell her calmly what had occurred, and, triumphant and happy, she explained that Mrs. Wardor had received a letter from Mr. Farnsworth, to say that at the end of the week he should visit Lone Linden, bringing with him young Mr. Heraclit Gupton, nephew of General Gupton, commanding the Department of the Pacific. "Poor, blind Mrs. Wardor," Clara went on to say, "saw nothing in this but Mr. Farnsworth's desire to entertain a young gentleman whose uncle had it in his power to award heavy army contracts; indeed, how could she know that Heraclit Gupton was--was--" "I have lived and loved--but that was to-day; Go bring me my grave clothes to-morrow."