mother’s charge, and, no doubt, neglect and want of proper nourishment was the cause of its death.  There now seemed to be no link to bind me to the past with the exception of the old hag, who knew nothing about the marriage.  I did not attempt to undeceive her, but agreed to allow her enough to live on if she promised never to trouble me again, and to keep quiet about everything which had reference to my connection with her daughter.  She promised readily enough, and went back to her squalid dwelling in the slums, where, for all I know, she still lives, as money has been paid to her regularly every month by my solicitors.  I heard nothing more about the matter, and now felt quite satisfied that I had heard the last of Rosanna.  As years rolled on, things prospered with me, and so fortunate was I in all speculations that my luck became proverbial.  Then, alas! when all things seemed to smile upon me, my wife died, and the world has never seemed the same to me since.  But I had my dear daughter to console me, and in her love and affection I became reconciled to the loss of my wife.  A young Irish gentleman, called Brian Fitzgerald, came out to Australia, and I soon saw that my daughter was in love with him, and that he reciprocated that affection, whereat I was glad, as I have always esteemed him highly.  I looked forward to their marriage, when suddenly a series of events occurred, which must be fresh in the memory of those who read these pages.  Mr. Oliver Whyte, a gentleman from London, called on me and startled me with the news that my first wife, Rosanna Moore, was still living, and that the story of her death had been an ingenious fabrication in order to deceive me.  She had met with an accident, as stated in the newspaper, and had been taken to an hospital, where she recovered.  The young doctor, who had sent me the certificate of her death, had fallen in love with her, and wanted to marry her, and had told me that she was dead in order that her past life might be obliterated.  The doctor, however, died before the marriage, and Rosanna did not trouble herself about undeceiving me.  She was then acting on the burlesque stage under the name of ‘Musette,’ and seemed to have gained an unenviable notoriety by her extravagance and infamy.  Whyte met her in London, and she became his mistress.  He seemed to have had a wonderful influence over her, for she told him all her past life, and about her marriage with me.  Her popularity being on the wane in London, as she was now growing old-, and had to make way for younger actresses, Whyte proposed that they should proceed to the colonies and extort money from me, and he had come to me for that purpose.  The villain told me all this in the coolest manner, and I, knowing he held the secret of my life, was unable to resent it.  I refused to see Rosanna, but told Whyte I would agree to his terms, which were, first, a large sum of money was to be paid to Rosanna, and, secondly, that he should marry my daughter.  I,