not very common; I am Jules Levice's daughter."

He was about to exclaim "NO!" The kinship seemed ridiculous in the face of
this lovely girl and the remembered picture of the little plain-faced Jew.
What he did say was, --

"Mr. Levice is an esteemed friend of mine. He is present, is he not?"

"Yes. Have you met my mother yet?"

The mother would probably unravel the mysterious origin of this beautiful
face and this strange, sweet voice, whose subdued tones held an uncommon
charm.

"No; but your father is diplomat enough to manage that before the evening
is over. So you know our little scheme. Pardon the 'shop' which I have of
a necessity brought with me this evening, but have you seen any signs of
illness in your mother?"

"No; I have been very blind and selfish," she replied, somewhat bitterly,
"for every one but me seems to have seen that something was wrong. She has
been very anxious to give me pleasure, and I fear has been burning the
candle at both ends for my light. I wish I had known--probably it lay just
within my hand to prevent this, instead of leading her on by my often
expressed delight. What I wish to ask you is that if you find anything
serious, you will tell me, and allay my father's fears as much as possible.
Please do this for me. My father is not young; and I, I think, am
trustworthy."

She had spoken rapidly, but with convincing sincerity, looking her