“He is fascinating, I know, but I think his vanity misleads him. He mistakes kindness for love. In fact, a very beautiful young girl told me recently that she detested Mr. Seabright from the first minute she saw him, and that he made her think of a serpent. I would not tell him this for anything, for I can fancy how those bright, dark eyes would flash with anger at the thought that any woman did not admire him. “We are planning a tour of Europe together, and sail next week. I am quite sure that my dear brother, as Percy makes me call him, will be a very charming traveling-companion.” Italy was trembling so violently that the pages slipped from under the little finger that held them down and she lost the place where she was reading. She opened it again farther on, and at the very top of the page this entry stared her in the face: “London, Eng., Aug. 25th, 18--. I have made a shocking discovery that has almost prostrated me. My dear friend Percy is mentally unbalanced.” A cry of wonder came from Italy’s lips: “So papa really knew it, then! Yet all this time the world has been in ignorance of this secret!” She read on with eager eyes the continuation of the diary: “It is dreadful, dreadful! Percy is possessed of a suicidal mania. Three times since we came abroad he has attempted to end his own life, and but for my vigilance would now be dead. I am miserable over him. The story of this trip abroad is as weird and strange as a romance. The doctors tell me I must take him home, and----” “Oh,” cried Italy, looking up, with a start, from her reading, for the key had clicked in the lock, and the door opened. She looked up, expecting to see Mrs. Smith, but the next moment she sprang from her seat with an uncontrollable shriek of fear. It was not the housekeeper, it was her master, Percy Seabright, and when he saw Italy Vale sitting there reading her father’s diary, a shriek of maniacal fury burst from his lips, and he sprang forward, clutching her throat in a grasp of steel. * * * * * Italy had no suspicion as to the cause of the wild alarm that had made Mrs. Smith leave her so suddenly and lock her into the padded chamber. But the woman was trembling with terror as she hurried down the stairs to the front door. That clamorous peal of the door-bell had told her more than Italy dreamed. Mrs. Smith knew by the very sound that only the hand of her master, Percy Seabright, had set that bell in motion. She had supposed him safe upon the ocean, but here he was returning--why? Wild with alarm, anxious for the safety of the girl up-stairs, the housekeeper presented herself at the door and admitted her master. “Oh, sir, why is this? I thought you had started on your wedding-journey!” she cried. “The steamer sailed without me, Elizabeth. I came on shore to speak to a friend, and she started off without me. Ha, ha! isn’t it amusing to think of my bride going off on her wedding-tour alone?” he laughed wildly.