"Exactly, Miriam; you are always so penetrating! But don't tell, for the
world. Old Bainrothe would never forgive me; and, as I once before told
you in one of my savage moods, his enmity is dire--satanic!"

"I am not afraid of Cagliostro, or his animosity," I answered; "never
was, Evelyn, as you know. The best way to disarm him is to confront him
boldly. He is like a lion in that alone. I wish, though, he would give
me a little of his elixir of life, for dear papa; he has never looked
himself since that attack, though better, certainly,--oh, decidedly
better, of course, than I dared to hope at one time ever to see him
again. Yet I am very anxious."

"Papa is well enough, Miriam; you only imagine these things. At fifty,
you know, most men begin to break a little; then they rally again and
look almost as well as ever in a few years, up to sixty or seventy. Look
at Mr. Lodore! He looked older when we first knew him than he does now;
and so did Dr. Pemberton."

"That is because they have both filled out and grown more florid and
healthy; but papa is withering away, Evelyn; shrinking day by day--his
very step has changed recently. Oh, I hope, I hope I may be deceived!"
And I covered my face with my hands, praying aloud, as I did sometimes
irresistibly when greatly excited. "God grant, God grant us his precious
life!" I murmured. "Spare him to his children!"

"Amen!" said Evelyn Erle, solemnly.

A few evenings after this conversation I went to see and hear the opera
of "Masaniello," then all the rage, and at the zenith of its popularity,
with Mrs. Stanbury, Laura, and George Gaston--Norman had been recently