A letter, torn and blood-stained, lay near. August picked it from the
ground and examined it. It proved to be from a gentleman, and was written
in a friendly, not to say lover-like strain. At the bottom was signed a
name, "A. Bor----"

The latter part of the name was completely obliterated by a blot of
blood.

While the young engineer stood in an attitude of shocked irresolution, a
step sounded on the gravel behind him.

He turned to look into the face of a young man whose countenance showed
resemblance to the dead girl.

"My God! what is this?"

The new-comer darted forward, gazed for a moment into the dead face of
poor Victoria, then staggered back, clutching the arm of August Bordine
to save himself from falling.

"Suicide, I fear," answered Bordine for lack of words.

"Suicide! My soul, is Victoria dead?"

Then the last comer knelt down beside the prostrate girl, and lifted her
golden head to his knee.

His cries and moans were heartrending.

In vain Bordine tried to soothe the young man, but he found that a