I certainly had every chance to like him. For three days he was a constant visitor at our house. He accompanied mother and myself on a drive along Broadway and out on the avenue. I enjoyed the excitement of Broadway and the fresh air of the country, but--Mr. Wareham was by my side, talking pleasantly, even eloquently, and looking all the while as if he would like to eat me. We went to the opera, and for the first time, the fairy world of the stage was disclosed to me. I was enchanted,--the lights, the costumes, the music, the circle of youth and beauty, all wrapt me in a delicious dream, but--close by my side was Mr. Wareham, his eyes expanded and his lip protruding. I thought of the Arabian Nights and was reminded of a well-dressed Ghoul. I began to hate the man. On the fourth day he brought me a handsome bracelet, glittering with diamonds, which my mother bade me accept, and on the fifth day I hated him with all my soul. There was an influence about him which repelled me and made me afraid. It was the sixth night in my new home, and in my night-dress, I was seated on the edge of my bed, the candle near, and my mother by my side. She had entered the room with a serious and even troubled face. The wrinkle was marked deep between her brows. Fixing my lace cap on my head and smoothing my curls with a gentle pressure of her hand, she looked at me long and anxiously but in silence. "O, mother!" I said, "when will we visit 'father,'--and good old Alice, and--Ernest? I am so anxious to see my home again!" "You must forget that home," said my mother gravely. "You will shortly be surrounded by new ties and new duties. Nay, do not start and look at me with so much wonder. I see that I must be plain with you. Listen to me, Frank. Who owns this house?" "It is yours!" "The pictures, the gold plate, the furniture worthy of such a palace?" "Yours,--all yours, mother." "Who purchased the dresses and the diamonds which you wear,--dresses and diamonds worthy of a queen?" "You did, mother--of course," I hesitated. "Wrong, Frank, all wrong!" and her eyes shone vividly, and the mark between her brows grew blacker. "The house which shelters you, the furniture which meets your gaze, the dresses which clothe you, and the diamonds which adorn your person, are the property of--Mr. Wareham." It seemed to me as if the floor had opened at my feet. "O, mother! you are jesting," I faltered. CHAPTER XII. A REVELATION. "I am a beggar, child, and you are a beggar's daughter. It is to Mr. Wareham that we are indebted for all that we enjoy. For years he has paid the expenses of your education; and now that you have grown to young womanhood he shelters you in a palace, surrounds you with splendor that a queen might envy, and not satisfied with this,--" She paused and fixed her eyes upon my face, I know that I was frightfully pale. "Offers you his hand in marriage."