With tender and observant eyes, Leslie Fotheringhame was watching her soft features, and saw them all quiver over, as if with a sudden pang, and his heart was moved, for a lovely face was hers. With much of reverential tenderness he detached the locket from his chain, opened it, and then Annabelle beheld a likeness of herself--simply a finely coloured photo, forgotten by her, but evidently treasured by him. Annabelle was startled on seeing this, but not disconcerted. 'And so, sir,' said she, 'while loving another woman, you have in mockery, and perhaps for the amusement of your mess-room friends, dared to carry my likeness about with you!' She spoke firmly, and with difficulty restrained a passionate fit of tears--of wild weeping, in fact. 'I never loved another woman--or any one but you, and you alone, Annabelle, as I can swear to you with truth,' said he, earnestly and tenderly. 'And who, then, was the woman whose initials were the same as your own, or nearly so, with whom you had mysterious meetings--correspondence, and all that appeared to be part and parcel of a deep and concerted intrigue! But it is beneath me now to inquire!' she added bitterly. 'Annabelle, the returned letter would have told you all--my sister.' 'Your sister!' repeated Annabelle, in a breathless voice, and with some incredulity of manner. 'My only sister Fanny--the runaway wife of a husband who is now in India, and to pay whose debts I sold my troop in the Lancers. You have surely heard of your cousin Fanny Fleming. She had no friend in the world but me. I thought to conceal her existence from you and others; but you have wrung the secret from me. A false wife--a helpless, hopeless creature; but her sorrows, her repentances and all are ended now, and she is in her grave. God rest her!' There was a silent pause, during which, he could see how the bosom of Annabelle heaved with every respiration. 'And this was all your mystery?' said she, looking up with her eyes full of tears, and her lips quivering. 'All! and more than enough. It was to me a source of great horror, shame, and sorrow, to find my beloved sister--one whom many women loved, and all men admired; whose breast was the mansion of goodness and purity once--she, my gentle and loving sister, the child of the same father, nurtured by the same mother! and could I forsake her because she was in adversity, in sorrow, and repentant, and from whom all else in the world turned?' 'Oh, Leslie!' she exclaimed, as she frankly placed both her hands in his, and he drew her towards him, saying tenderly: 'Annabelle, let me prove my faith to you--forgive me----' 'I have nothing to forgive.' 'Then let us forget the miserable past.' She felt his breath upon her half-averted cheeks, and his low and earnest whisper in her little white ear; and then, while weeping heavily, she fell on his breast.