“You did right, dear, to come to me; but were you not a trifle hasty and rash? I think you should have listened to young Sherbrooke’s—or whoever he may be—defense,” Mr. Rosevelt said, gently. “What possible defense could he have had to offer?” Star cried, in a voice of scorn. “He has pretended to be Archibald Sherbrooke, a simple artist, to me, while everybody else knows him as Lord Carrol, of Carrolton.” “But he may have been traveling incognito under the former name,” suggested Mr. Rosevelt. “Then why did he not keep it to the end? Why did he go to a fashionable watering-place and flourish as a titled Englishman, and devote himself to Josephine? Why did he _resume_ the former name upon meeting me again, and lead me to love him, believing him to be a poor artist? No; there can be nothing said in defense of such double-dealing as this. He has cheated and fooled me. I have found him out, and compelled him to own it. It is enough to make me scorn him; but it has been a bitter lesson, and has taught me never to trust a man again,” Star concluded, with vehement bitterness. “Never, Star? Surely that acrimonious resolve does not include me,” said Mr. Rosevelt, with gentle reproach. “No; I know that you are kind and true, and you are the only one in the world who cares for me,” the suffering girl said, in husky tones. “Indeed, my child, you have become very dear to me, and my life would be very forlorn without you.” Star bent down and touched his hand with her lips. In her wretchedness it comforted her greatly to know that she had contributed to his happiness. “But I cannot get over what you have told me. I never was so deceived in my life before; and if this young sprig of English nobility is the villain you represent him, he is not fit to live,” Mr. Rosevelt said, sternly, after a few moments of thoughtful silence. Star shivered with pain. Much as she believed she scorned him, she could not endure that another should speak disparagingly of him. “Never mind him, Uncle Jacob,” she said. “I have put him out of my life forever; and now I want to talk to you about something else. You say that I have made your life happier since you came here, and that you would be very lonely without me. I am going to tell you a little secret, and then I want you to promise to go away from here with me. I am not going to remain here another day,” she concluded decidedly. “Is that your secret, Star?” “Part of it,” she answered, with a sad smile. “I have a little money, as you know—a hundred pounds—which, at Mr. Richards’ suggestion, I put at interest last year. Now, I want to take this money and make a cozy little home for you and me somewhere, until I get through school—there will be enough to last till then, I think—and after that I shall be able to take care of us both in fine style, by teaching and giving music lessons.”