she was not my grandchild. I should not love her less; and then she
would have others to love her when I am gone to Lizzy!"

Darrell was deeply moved. To him there was something in this old man-
ever forgetting himself, ever so hurried on by his heart--something, I
say, in this old man, before which Darrell felt his intellect subdued and
his pride silenced and abashed.

"Yes, sir," said Waife, musingly, "so let it be. I am well now. I will
go to France to-morrow."

Darrell nerved his courage. He had wished to spare Waife the pain which
his own persuasions caused to himself. Better now to be frank. He laid
his hand on Waife's shoulder, and looking him in the face, said solemnly:
"I entreat you not! Do you suppose that I would not resume inquiry in
person, nor pause till the truth were made amply clear, if I had not
strong reason to prefer doubt to certainty?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"There is a woman whose career is, I believe, at this moment revived into
fresh notoriety as the heroine of some drama on the stage of Paris--a
woman who, when years paled her fame and reft her spoils, as a courtesan
renowned for the fools she had beggared, for the young hearts she had
corrupted, sought plunder still by crimes, to which law is less lenient;
charged with swindling, with fraud, with forgery, and at last more than
suspected as a practised poisoner, she escaped by suicide the judgment of
human tribunals."

"I know of whom you speak--that dreadful Gabrielle Desmarets, but for