Slowly and impressively the governess began the narrative, of which she had given Dr. Grey a hasty _resume_, and when she mentioned the midnight labors in which she had engaged, the copying of legal documents, the sale of her drawings, the hoarding of her salary in order to aid her mother and her betrothed, and to remove the obstacles to her marriage, Mrs. Gerome sat down, and, crossing her arms on the window-sill, hid her face upon them. Unflinchingly Miss Dexter detailed all that occurred after her arrival in New York; and finally, approaching the window, she insisted that her listener should peruse the last letter received from her lover, and containing the promise that within ten days he would come to claim his bride. But the lovely hand waved it aside, and the proud voice exclaimed impatiently,-- "I need no additional proof of his perfidy, which, beyond controversy, was long ago established. Go on! go on!" Upon all that followed the ceremony,--the departure of the wife,--and her own despairing grief, the governess dwelt with touching eloquence and pathos; and, at last, as she spoke of her fruitless journey to England,--her sad search through the insane asylums,--Mrs. Gerome lifted her queenly head, and bent a piercing glance upon the speaker. Ah! what a hungry, eager expression looked out shyly from her whilom hopeless eyes, when, with an imperious gesture, she silenced her visitor, and asked,-- "You spent your hard earnings, not in _trousseau_, or preparations for housekeeping; but hunting for me in lunatic asylums? Suppose you had found me in a mad-house?" "Then I should have become an inmate of the same gloomy walls; and, while you lived, should have shared with faithful Elsie the care and charge of you. God is my witness, I had resolved to dedicate my remaining years to the task of cheering and guarding yours. Oh, Evelyn! not until we stand in the great Court of Heaven can you realize how sincerely, how tenderly, and unwaveringly, I love you. My darling, how can you distrust my faithful heart?" She sank on her knees, and, throwing her arms around the tall, slender form, looked with mournful, beseeching tenderness at the haughty features above her. For a moment the proud, pale face glowed,--the great shadowy eyes kindled and shone like wintry planets in some crystalline sky; but doubt, murderous, cynical doubt, grappled with hope, and strangled it. "Edith, I wish I could believe you. I am struggling desperately to lay hold of the fluttering garments of faith, but I cannot! Suspicion has walked hand in hand with me so long that I cannot shake off her numbing touch, and I distrust all human things, save the dusty heart that moulders yonder in my old Elsie's grave." She pointed to the white columns of the temple, and then the uplifted fingers fell heavily on Edith's shoulder. "Go on. I wish to learn whose treachery betrayed the secret of my retreat."