"It is eighteen months ago that Reginald and I first met. Mother and I were spending an evening with a friend when he came in and was introduced to us as Mr. Reginald, A few days afterwards we met him in the street, and he walked a little way with us, and asked if he might call and see us; and soon he became a regular visitor. How does love come, Dick? It is a mystery, but I know I used to think a great deal of him when he was away, and once or twice when we expected him and he did not come I felt unhappy. When I heard his voice I was happy again, and then I knew I loved him. One day he spoke to me, and my heart was filled with happiness when he told me he loved me. He said he feared he was wrong in speaking to me of love, for there was a secret in his life which he did not wish to disclose for a time; and he asked, if we entered into an engagement, that I should say nothing of it to my parents without his consent. I loved him, Dick, and trusted him, and I consented to everything he proposed. So I had a lover, and no one at home knew anything of it. Do not misjudge Reginald; he is the soul of honour, and I would as soon doubt the goodness of God as I would doubt the good faith and honour of the man I love. Do I hear him moving?" She rose, and stepped softly to the bedroom. Returning, she said, "No, he is sleeping peacefully. Oh, Dick, dear, you would pity him if you knew how he has suffered, and how little he deserves it. It is two months to-day that he spoke very seriously to me, in consequence of something you said. You will remember it, Dick. You were in a situation as clerk, and one night you told us that you were acting as clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, and that you intended to give up your situation because of the bad character he bore. He was a money-lender, you said, and had brought ruin on a number of poor people. Mother didn't like the idea of your throwing up your situation, but when you asked her if she would advise you to stop with such a man she said, no, she wouldn't, and that Mr. Samuel Boyd was a rascal. I didn't think anything of it at the time except that I was sorry for you. Reginald recalled that conversation, and warned me to prepare for a disclosure that might cause me to shrink from him. He had kept his name concealed, he said, because he was ashamed of his father, who was no other than the Mr. Samuel Boyd of whom such hard words were spoken at home. He told me of his life; how during his boyhood he was kept at school, and then sent abroad to learn languages; how he knew nothing of his father's doings, who described himself as a financier; how, his education being completed, his father summoned him home, and how, while he lived in Catchpole Square, he was shocked at the discovery of the kind of business his father was engaged in. It was so revolting to Reginald that he spoke his mind freely; they had quarrels, and the end of it was that he left his