understood him so well, would make myself so necessary to him that he could not live without me, and would perhaps make me his wife at last. Thus I reasoned when suddenly it occurred to me that the baby was an obstacle in my way. He was passionately fond of children, and a daughter in his house would change everything. My mistress had said so, and I believed it. With the baby at Chateau des Fleurs I could never hope to be more than nurse and maid, as I was now. And then Satan told me to hide the child for a time, till I saw what I could do with the father. If I succeeded I would tell him the truth, and brave his anger, for I should still be his wife. If I failed I would send his daughter to him with the letter my mistress entrusted to me, and in which she told him of its birth and the name she had given it. In any event I did not mean to hide Margie forever, but I did not know then how one sin leads to another or what a hard master is the evil one when you give yourself to him as I did, for I resolved at last to do the wicked thing which was comparatively easy. Of Margery’s expected birth Monsieur knew nothing, for his wife had purposely kept it from him to make the surprise and pleasure greater. He had not seen her in some months, and would have no suspicion of the existence of the little girl. We had lived very quietly in Rome, and few knew or cared for the young mother who died alone with me. But when she was dead strangers kindly came forward and when they heard that Mr. Hetherton was away in Austria or Russia, I did not know which, they took the matter in hand and buried her in the Protestant burying ground, but left me to do what I pleased with the baby, which I took to Paris, to an old woman whom I had known for years, and to whom I entrusted it, telling her it was mine, and hiring her to care for it until I was in a position to claim it. She asked me no questions, for the gold I paid her was a conclusive argument in my favor and would, I knew, insure kind care for the child. “My next step was to go to Chateau des Fleurs to await the coming of my master, for I had written him from Rome, telling him of his wife’s death, and my intention to return to the Chateau with whatever effects she left in my care. The letter was some time in finding him; but on its receipt, he hastened home at once, and for a day or two seemed crushed with grief and remorse. Then for a short time he drank hard and deeply, and kept his room, where bottle after bottle of wine and brandy was sent, and in his drunkenness he was more like a brute than a man.