the Huguenots, was herself a native of the Queen City. But far away
from her native home had Mrs. Heartwell's married life been spent,
and Lizzie's young days, too, had passed in their quiet uneventful
home at Melrose.

But at the age of fifteen, and three years prior to the opening of
this story, under the kindly guardianship of her uncle, Lizzie
Heartwell entered the popular finishing school of Madam Truxton.

Possessed of noble, heroic blood, and blessed with love that
instilled into her young mind the principles of a brave, devoted
ancestry, it was but natural that Lizzie Heartwell should exhibit an
unusual development of heart and mind at a very tender age, and give
early promise of a braver, nobler womanhood, when Time should set
his seal upon her brow.

Reluctantly the heart turns to read the half-written history in the
sad face of Leah Mordecai, the fourth maiden standing pictured
against the stone under the archway. She was of the unmistakable
Jewish type, possessing the contour of face, the lustrous eye, the
massive crown of hair, that so often distinguish and beautify the
Hebrew maiden, wheresoever the sun may rise and set.

In the sadness that rested upon this young girl's face, one might
dimly detect the half-extinguished flame of hope, that usually
burns so brilliantly in the hearts of most young girls. But why this
sadness no one could tell. Its cause was a mystery even to her
friends. Benjamin Mordecai was an opulent banker, who for many years
lived in solitary grandeur in his bachelor home. But in the process
of time, he wedded the gentle Sarah David, and brought her to share