"I am surely the most unhappy of girls!" she sobbed. "They have killed my poor father, and now they will take from me my honour as a woman!" Then, after a pause, she added:-- "You remember what I told you regarding the woman Hardwick? Nardini knew of that scandal long ago in Pisa, when you accidentally met Ina's married sister travelling, and were forced into the Divorce Court by her husband to give evidence against her. As Minister of Justice, he knew well all the secrets of hushed-up scandals, and often turned them to his own profit." "Miss Miller," Sammy exclaimed, in a soft tone now full of sympathy for the poor suffering girl, "you mentioned just now the unfortunate death of my friend Manuel Carrera, in Paris. You recollect that I--" "Manuel Carrera!" cried Ella, suddenly releasing Lucie and facing Sammy. "Was he your friend? Then let me also tell you the truth! Hear my confession, Godfrey, and then you shall judge me!" CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. UNITES TWO HEARTS. The revelations amazed me. I held my breath and faced her. There was a terrible eloquence in the silence of that room. "Listen," exclaimed my well-beloved, her pale, desperate, but beautiful countenance turned full towards me. "Listen, and I'll tell you everything, just as it occurred. "About three years ago, very soon after I parted from you on that memorable night in Bayswater, my father and I were staying at the Hotel Continental in Paris, and received a call from Mr Miller and Lucie. I was of course delighted to see my old schoolfellow again, but only once was your name mentioned--with regret--for I was already engaged to marry Mr Blumenthal. Mr Miller asked us down to his house at Enghien, and we went several times, generally finding there a young Chilian, Manuel Carrera, for a great affection had sprung up between Lucie and him. The young fellow chanced to be staying at the same hotel as ourselves in Paris, and sometimes we returned by the same train together. At Mr Miller's we also met Himes, in whom I must say I was much mistaken. I believed him to be an American gentleman, but I now know that he was what is known as a `sharp.' One night my father and I dined at the Villa du Lac, Carrera being also invited. He left rather early, for some reason or other, and when we went an hour or so later Lucie asked me to deliver to him a secret message which she had forgotten--a request that he would meet her at the Gare du Nord at eleven o'clock next morning, as she was going shopping and would be alone.