And ruined indeed looked Miss Seabright, with every vestige of color blasted from her marble-like face. Still as a statue of despair, she stood with her dilated eyes immovably fixed upon the receding figure of the old woman, until it had disappeared from the room. Then tossing back her bridal veil and springing forward she grasped the hand of Mrs. Garnet, and, darting her wild gaze piercingly into the lady’s gentle eyes, she asked hurriedly: “Did I—did I hear aright? What did she say?” “Nothing; do not mind her, Miss Seabright,” replied the lady, with a flushed brow. “What did she say?” repeated Garnet. “Nothing! Nothing worth telling, my dear.” “Oh! I implore you, tell me what did she say?” “My dearest girl! nothing that it is well you should hear.” “Nay, then! I adjure you to tell me! By your soul’s truth, I adjure you to tell me!” she persisted wildly. “She told you, dearest Garnet, that you were the daughter of my late husband; but——” “Stay! am I so?” interrupted Garnet, in a voice of indescribable anguish. “Yes—I believe so,” replied Alice gently. She dropped the hand she had grasped with such strength, and stood as if suddenly turned to stone, for an instant—and then springing forward with the wild energy of desperation, she exclaimed: “Unsay those words—or see me die before you.” Alice suddenly threw her arms around the form of the stricken girl, and, catching her wild eyes, gazed into them deeply and tenderly as though she would have transfused all her own sweet love and resignation into that rampant soul, and said: “Dearest child! She told you only what we knew, and still loved you. Dearest child! you are my husband’s daughter, and Elsie’s younger sister—and we love you.” “The child of your husband and not your child! The younger sister of your daughter, and you living!” exclaimed the wretched girl, sinking, withering, shriveling as it were before the fell blast of this burning and consuming revelation. At last she groaned forth in tones of unutterable sorrow: “Oh! oh! was it right, Heaven! was it well, Heaven! just as I had made a great sacrifice to duty, and achieved a great moral victory; was it well to strike me in my pride of place, and bring me down so low! so low!” Then with another spasmodic outbreak of energy, she exclaimed: “Unsay those words! Unsay them, or see me die before you! Take all I have—wealth, rank, prospects, hopes! all, all! but, for the love of God, unsay those words! Take all, all! but leave me my honorable name! Take all, all! but let me go an honored, if an humble bride, to my husband’s home! Oh, for the pity of God!” Again Mrs. Garnet threw her arms around the cowering form of the wretched girl, as though she would envelop, sustain, save her in this trying moment, by the might of love; and saying: