"I now remember you," said Mary, her eyes filling with tears, as she gazed into the troubled face of Frank,--"Father painted your picture, and afterward you sought us out in our garret, and left your purse upon the table, with a note stating that it contained the balance due on your portrait. O, it was kind, it was noble,--" "Do not speak of it, child," Frank said in rapid and abrupt tones,--"Had I not been convinced that you and your father were dead, I would have visited you often. That is, if I could have concealed from you what I was, and the way of life which was mine." Her lip quivered, and she hid her eyes with her hand. "But come, your husband is here," she said, as Nameless re-appeared, his form once more clad in the faded frock-coat, but with a cloak drooping from his shoulders. "You must away, and at once." "Frank,"--and Nameless, trembling with agitation, approached her, "we will meet again in happier hours." O, the strange look of her eyes, the bitter mocking curl of her lip! "We will never meet again," she answered, in a voice that sunk into his heart. Then burying the chain and golden cross in her bosom, she placed a letter in his hand,--"Swear to me that you will not read this, until three hours at least are passed?" "I promise,--" "Nay, you must swear it,--" "I swear, in the sight of Heaven!" "Now depart, and,--" she turned her face away from their gaze, and pointed to the door. As she turned away, Mary approached her, and put her arms about her neck, and her eyes brim full of tears all the while,--kissed her on the forehead and the lips, saying at the same time, and from the depths of her heart, "May God in Heaven bless you!" Frank took Mary's arms from her neck, and joined her hand in that of Nameless, and then pushed them gently to the door,--"Go, and at once," she whispered. And they crossed the threshold, Mary looking back over her shoulder, until she disappeared with Nameless, in the shadows of the passage. Frank stood with one hand extended to the door, and the other supporting her averted face,--she heard their footsteps in the passage, on the stairway, and in the hall beneath. Then came the sound of the opening and closing of the door, which led into the street. And then the agony, the despair, the thousand emotions which racked her soul, found utterance in the simple, and yet awfully touching ejaculation,--"O, my God!--" and she flung herself on her knees, before the Marriage Altar, resting her clenched hands upon the Holy Bible, which was concealed by her bowed head, and unbound hair. "O, my God! He is gone, and--forever!" Yes, Frank, woman so beautiful and so utterly lost, gone and forever--gone, with his young wife by his side, and Poison in his veins. PART FIFTH. THE DAWN, SUNRISE AND DAY. DECEMBER 24, 1844. CHAPTER I. "THE OTHER CHILD." Baffled schemer! In the dim hour which comes before the break of day, Colonel Tarleton was hurrying rapidly along the silent and deserted street.