Since that time the father and mother had been disconsolate. The memory of the daughter was never from their minds. They spent the greater part of the days at the side of the grave in the cemetery. After dusk had fallen they sat in the pretty boudoir that had been the room of their child. Not a thing had been touched in the room. The beautiful dresses and garments that had once been worn by their daughter still were neatly hung in their places. The little mementoes still lay about the room. And in the dim light that radiated from a fireplace the father and mother could picture the face of their daughter, whom they believed to have been so ruthlessly torn from them by death. Quickly recovering from the shock, the seeming apparition had given him, the reporter dashed after the girl. She ran into a room and attempted to lock the reporter out. He forced his way in. As he did so, she fell at his feet screaming and pleading. Her mind seemed to have suddenly become unbalanced. "Don't tell papa and mamma I'm alive," she shrieked; "they believe me to be dead and it is better so. I'll kill myself if you tell them." The reporter could scarcely believe that girl could be the same innocent, high-minded child he had known but a few months before. After much persuasion, she was finally calmed. She would not lift her head or look into her childhood friend's eyes. "Come and get out of this fearful hole at once," the reporter demanded, grasping her by the arm. The crying of the girl ceased. Her muscles grew tense and rigid. "I will stay here," she said quietly; "stay here until I die. No pleadings will change me. My mind has been made up for some time. I'm an animal now. The innocent girl that you once knew is now no part of me. I'm all that is bad now. When I leave this life, it will be in death." "But your father and mother would receive you back--they needn't know anything of this," pleaded the reporter. "I'm dead to them and in death I am still pure and innocent in their eyes. They are happy in their belief," slowly said the girl, her eyes filling with tears. She paused for some time, a faraway look in her eyes. It was as though she were gazing into the past of but a short time before. Her features assumed those of the innocent girl she had been, then as she thought they gradually seemed to grow more hardened and steel-like. Finally, after some moments she broke the silence. "I will tell you why I am here," she said. "I will tell you why I will not go back. "You can remember, not a long time ago, when I was all that was good. I hardly knew the meaning of a profane word. I was worshiped and petted. "I have done some good in my life. It was this good and the hope to do even more that finally led to my ruin. In the convent where I went to school, we had been taught to be charitable. I was happy in helping the poor and sick.