“Your secret is known only to myself, Evelyn, and I assure you it is safe with me as long as you strive to please me and obey me. I learned the truth from your own lips, while you were sleeping at my side. You have a habit of talking aloud, and quite connectedly in your sleep, and you rave of that forged note continually. You are white and trembling still; drink this glass of wine, and when you are little stronger I will dictate the words I wish you to write in your daughter’s name. The imitation of her handwriting will be no trouble to you, I know, for you have often boasted to me of your skill in this sort of work. Have you decided to obey me, Evelyn?” “I have no choice left me but to obey you,” the woman answered, in a tone of intense weariness; and half an hour later found her engaged in writing the letter that was destined to cause her child many an hour of keen suffering. It was addressed to Oscar Hilton, and read as follows: “I am leaving your home to follow the fortunes of a man whom I love, but of whom I know you would not approve. I can tell you nothing concerning him, only the simple fact of my love for him. I know you had set your heart upon my marriage with Chester St. John, but this could never have been. “I like Mr. St. John very much, and I may have deceived him into the belief that I returned his affection for me, but I could not help it; it was so pleasant for me to feel in company that I had the power to retain the handsomest and wealthiest man among them by my side, while the other ladies were dying of envy. “I am sorry now that I did so, because I know that I have often given pain to your Isabel, who loves Chester St. John with her whole heart. She never betrayed her secret to me until I told her of his proposal, and then she could not hide it. “Her face turned white as death, and I heard her whisper his name over and over in such a tone of love and sorrow that I was ashamed of my own heartless conduct. “I hope he will learn to love Isabel, she is much more worthy than I am, and better fitted to grace his home. “When you receive this I shall be with the man of my choice. “Break the news as gently as possible to my mother, and ask her to forgive and forget her willful daughter, “IRIS.” This was the letter, and hardened and worldly as was the woman who wrote it, a tear fell on the open page before her as she signed the name of the sweet-faced girl who had never given her an angry or impatient word. On the day following that on which he had shown St. John the letter, Mr. Hilton met Chester face to face on Broadway, and on the latter’s making a polite inquiry for Miss Hilton, answered in a grave and sorrowful tone: