disagreeable circumstances connected with my history, that I found it extremely painful to add this miserable entanglement to the list.  Still, I foresaw that it must be done, and I resolved to do it; but I was cowardly, and wanted to put off the evil day.  You may remember, perhaps, that at the last moment I objected to attending that ball; but you thought it would be rude to disappoint Mrs. Green, merely because I felt out of spirits.  I went, not dreaming of seeing my son there.  I had not looked upon him since the little black, silky head drooped on my arm while I exchanged the dresses.  You may partly imagine what I suffered.  And now he and Eulalia are getting in love with each other; and I know not what is to be done.  When you came in, I was praying for strength to seek your counsel.  What can we do, dear?  It will be a great disappointment for you to return to Europe, now that you have refitted your father’s house, and made all your arrangements to spend the remainder of our days here.”

“I would do it willingly,” he replied, “if I thought it would avail to separate Gerald and Eulalia.  But a voyage to Europe is nothing now-a-days, to people of their property.  I believe he loves the dear girl; and if he did not, my reputed millions would prevent his grandfather and his mother from allowing him to lose sight of her.  If we were to build a castle on the top of Mount Himalaya, they would scale it, you may depend.  I see no other remedy than to tell Gerald that Eulalia is his sister.”

“O, I cannot tell him!” exclaimed she.  “It would be so dreadful to have my son hate me!  And he would hate me; for I can see that he is very proud.”

In very kind and serious tones he replied:  “You know, dear Rosa, that you expressed a wish the other day to go to the Catholic church in which your mother worshipped, because you thought confession and penance would be a comfort.  You have wisely chosen me for your confessor, and if I recommend penance I trust you will think it best to follow my advice.  I see how difficult it would be to tell all your own and your mother’s story to so young a man as Gerald, and he your own son.  I will tell him; and I need not assure you that you will have a loving advocate to plead your cause with him.  But his mother must know why he relinquishes Eulalia, when he has had so much reason to think himself in favor both with her and her parents.  Gerald might tell her the mere external facts; but she could appreciate and understand them much better if told, as they would be told, by a delicate and loving woman, who had suffered the wrongs that drove her to madness, and who repented bitterly of the fault she had committed.  I think you ought to make a full confession to Mrs. Fitzgerald; and having done that, we ought to do whatever she chooses to prescribe.”

“It will be a severe penance,” she rejoined; “but I will do whatever you think is right.  If I could have all the suffering, I would not murmur.  But Gerald will suffer and Eulalia will suffer.  And for some weeks I have made you unhappy.  How sad you look, dear.”