"The end--ah?" she sighed. "How can I tell you? On the very night when we had secretly fixed the date of our marriage--a night when my father invited several friends to dine--he returned to Paris, and--" but she broke off short and burst into a wild passion of tears. For some time I waited, my hand placed tenderly upon her shoulder, striving to comfort her, and urging her to bear up against her heavy burden of trouble. Then at last when she grew calm again, she said in a hard tone:-- "On his return to Paris he found that during his absence thieves had obtained access to his room at the hotel, and securities for a very large amount, for the safe custody of which he was personally responsible, had been stolen. He saw that his own honour was at stake, that he alone was to blame for not leaving them in the bank, and in a fit of despondency--a mad paroxysm of temporary insanity--he took out his revolver and ended his life. I only knew of it four days after, when I chanced to read of it in the _Independance Belge_, for early on the morning following the dinner, my father had received a telegram and been compelled to go to Brussels, and I accompanied him. Before I knew the awful truth, poor Manuel was already dead and buried! Since that day," she added bitterly, "all hope of happiness has been crushed within me. I know now that the love of an honest man is not for me." I made no response. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts. Every word of hers bore out Sammy's story, yet I saw that she herself was innocent of the foul plot which had, as a sequel, the suicide of the poor girl's lover. Miller knew the truth; he was, indeed, in all probability the instigator of the ingenious theft that had had such a tragic sequel. In silence I held the small gate open for her, and together we passed on along the path beside the winding stream. Both our hearts were too full for words after that unusual exchange of confidences. Of a sudden before us, advancing in our direction, there appeared the figure of some one in the shadow beneath the trees. Lucie detected it at the same instant as myself, and halting drew back in quick alarm. "We must not be seen here together," she gasped. "People would talk, and it would quickly get to my father's ears." "And what harm if it did?" I asked, but ere she could reply a strange thing happened--an incident more startling and more amazing than any I could have ever imagined in my wildest dreams. I held my breath, and stood rooted to the spot. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. BENEATH THE LOVE-LIGHT. What followed was amazing, mystifying. With a loud cry that startled me the grey figure had come swiftly towards us, and I then saw that it was a woman. My companion and she flew into each other's arms and exchanged wild joyful greetings, while I, catching sight of her face, stood there open-mouthed, breathless in sheer astonishment.