“I did not suppose you would. My reference was too obscure. I will make my meaning more clear,” said Mr. Delaney. “When I first went on my travels abroad, I met in France a native of that agreeable country, by name Monsieur Sanson. Our first meeting was on an occasion, when he saved my life, in what manner I will not now relate, as my strength would not hold out for the recital. But we became friends from that hour, and in course of time fellow-travelers. I found my new friend one of the best-read and most agreeable men I had ever met. He was clever, cultivated, full of _bon camaraderie_--in short, a man of the world, full of wit and _bel esprit_. He was middle-aged and good-looking and appeared to have the means of living well, and even extravagantly, at his command. He told me that he had no family ties with the exception of one daughter, a young and lovely creature then being educated in the retirement of a convent school. Of this daughter, his ‘_chère_ Julie,’ as he lovingly called her, he never wearied of talking and expatiating on her manifold perfections. Once he showed me a small portrait of her. It represented the loveliest brunette I ever beheld. I fell in love with her and begged to be presented, but he laughingly refused, telling me that he did not intend to have his plans for _chère_ Julie spoiled in that way. After awhile he told me more seriously that in France the parents seldom permitted daughters to have any male acquaintances, fearing unfortunate love-affairs for them, as they were usually affianced by their parents to men of wealth and position.” “I have heard that that is the way they manage affairs of marriage in France,” said Mr. Rodney at this point. “I found it so to my cost,” groaned Oran Delaney, and then there was a short silence. He lay still with closed eyes, breathing heavily. “You have unduly wearied yourself in talking so much. Defer the remainder of your story until you are better,” said Mr. Rodney. “No, I will go on. I am anxious now that the secret I have kept so long in my morbid pride should be revealed. I am anxious to clear the name of Aline from the stain I suffered to rest upon it to save my own,” he answered. “My poor Aline. Shall I ever find her?” sighed the wretched father. “God grant you may. Oh, if I only were not chained down to this bed by my weakness, I would search the world over, but I would find her!” cried Oran Delaney with feverish impatience. A vision came over his mind of the fair young face and the sweet supplicating eyes, he seemed to hear her voice again as she spoke the strange words that made the warm blood run tingling through his veins with rapture. “I want to be your wife,” she had said, in her clear, frank voice, with her large eyes lifted childishly to his face, while in her exceeding innocence she had never dreamed of the passion of pain and despair in the man’s heart as he refused her request.