CHAPTER XXXII. LENA LAVARRE’S STORY. The two girls, Violet and Lena, spent the remaining hours of the night in the garret of the lonely old woodland cabin. As there was no bed, they could not sleep, but indeed they were so excited that they did not care to do so. They preferred to remain awake and discuss their plans for the future. Although Violet was wild to communicate at once with Cecil Grant, she permitted Lena to persuade her that it would be unwise to attempt it yet. “Harold Castello will be watching him very closely, and detection might follow on the slightest correspondence. It is best to wait a while,” she said. For the same reason Violet’s first intention of seeking her father’s relatives was tabooed, since it was natural that suspicion should be directed toward them. “Your best plan is to come home with me to my poor widowed mother, and remain a while in hiding,” advised Lena Lavarre. “But I have no money, dear Lena.” “That makes no difference, my friend, for we have a cozy little home of our own. Ah, would that I had never left it at the temptings of that black-hearted scoundrel who won my heart and betrayed my trust!” sighed Lena, with unavailing remorse. “Tell me how it happened, please,” cried Violet, with girlish curiosity over a love affair. The poor girl dashed the bitter tears from her brown eyes and answered: “It is a very simple story, dear Violet, though it ended so tragically. To begin at the beginning, I made his acquaintance in a way that I am ashamed of now--by a street flirtation! Pretty young girls are often very vain and thoughtless; I’m afraid I was both, for I delighted in the admiring glances I met from gay young men upon the street. I forgot to tell you that my home is in Washington. My poor father was a druggist, and we had a neat little home of our own. I was the only child. Father and mother had married late in life, and they fairly doted on me, and gave me all the advantages they could afford. Ah, how good they were to me, and how poorly I repaid their love!” sighed the unhappy and repentant girl. “Poor Lena!” murmured Violet, tenderly, and, choking back a sob, the girl continued: