To the good nun's announcement that she was an heiress, she had paid no attention, everything else being swallowed up in the glad news that her birth was honorable. After the sorrow and despair she had experienced such a revulsion of feeling, such intense happiness rushed over her that her senses for a moment succumbed to the shock, and the nun, bending forward to look at her, presently found she had quietly fainted. The application of a little cold water soon revived her, and the mother superior exclaimed, cheerfully: "Oh, fy! my dear, I did not know that you would take my good news so ill, or I would have broken it to you more carefully." "Tell me more. What is my name? Who are my kinspeople, and why was I left so long to the cruel mercy of Madame Lorraine?" exclaimed Una, eagerly. "Come with me. Our old friend, Pierre Carmontelle, is down-stairs. He will tell you all." "Monsieur Carmontelle! He has always been my friend," cried the girl, thinking remorsefully of the way she had snubbed him that day in Boston when he had followed her to the banker's gate, frightened because she feared he would betray her to Eliot. Now she ran joyfully to his presence, and he started in surprise at her wondrous beauty that shone star-like from its setting of simple convent black. "Heavens, Una! how lovely you have grown!" he exclaimed, gayly. "I may take the privilege of praising you, although you are a married woman, since you are my kinswoman by two distinct ties." "Your kinswoman!" the girl echoed, amazedly, and he explained, laughingly: "You are my cousin's daughter for one thing, and for the other you are my sister-in-law." "What can you mean?" "I married Maud Van Zandt two weeks ago," he replied. The warm color came rushing into Una's pale cheeks. "Oh!" she cried, "how happy you make me. And dear Maud--is she here?" "She is at my home, the Magnolias. Have you any one else to ask about, _belle cousine_?" chaffingly. "E--dith?" falteringly, and blushing up to her eyes. "Edith is at the Magnolias, too. Ah, I see your eyes asking me about some one else. No wonder you are ashamed to speak his name after the shameful way you have treated him. Well, I will be generous, Mrs. Van Zandt. Eliot--ah! now I see how you can blush--is also at my home, and presently I am going to take another guest to the Magnolias--even yourself." "Not--not until you tell me all!" the girl faltered, trembling with such happiness that she could scarcely speak. So, then and there he told her all the story of Mme. Lorraine's treachery and cupidity--told her everything, except the story of Eliot's illness that might possibly terminate fatally, and so wreck the happy ending of their checkered love story. When he had finished the story, with the aid of the little lawyer, who was charmed with the beauty of the young heiress, he said, kindly: "Will you come with me to the Magnolias, now, Una?" She looked radiantly at the nun, who answered, with genuine happiness: