that, she would form an early subject
of discussion between the pair.

Unluckily, the overbearing conduct of
La Pareuse, at this time begat dissensions
in the lower house. This woman had
conceived a violent aversion to Geraldine's
maid—and so malignant and threatening
was her demeanour, that the young lady
deemed it best to allow the girl to seek
another situation.

In departing, the latter, who was much
attached to Geraldine, wept bitterly. Miss
Fonnereau consoled her.

"'Tain't for myself, miss," sobbed Alice.
"Don't ye comfort me—but do—oh, do as
I'm a-doing.—Go!"

Geraldine long remembered the strange,
wistful look the girl bent upon her, as she
hurried from the room and house.

A well-timed incident now occurred.
Geraldine received a pressing invitation from
the kind Superior of the convent in which
she had passed so many happy days, to
revisit that tranquil spot.

Reluctant, indeed, to leave her father—
yet growing, hourly, less content at home
—Geraldine overbore the faint opposition
that was made to her acceptance of the
proposal—and quickly found herself once
again among the loving sisterhood.

Weeks soon grew to months, and there
was no talk of Geraldine's return (indeed,
at this time no pretext was required, as the
young lady, suffering from a severe sprain,
was unable to quit the sofa), when a letter,
containing another for Geraldine, reached
the Superior. It was from Mrs. Fonnereau,
and entreated that the sad tidings
she had to communicate might be carefully
broken to her dear child.

Colonel Fonnereau had died suddenly.

Nothing could be more tender and
considerate than the language of this letter.
Mrs. Fonnereau was evidently heart-
stricken by her sudden bereavement, and
found consolation only—next Heaven—in
the hope of shortly mingling her tears with
those of her beloved child.

"You have an earthly mother yet, my
love," remarked the kind Superior, through
her tears, as she folded up the letter.

Disabled from looking once more upon
the benign face, thus suddenly turned away,
Geraldine preferred the consolations she
had already found, and without proposing
to return home, waited patiently for
whatever fate Heaven should send her.

It now transpired that the colonel's affairs
were in a more prosperous condition than
he had supposed. Certain shares, which
Fonnereau, an indifferent man of business,
had laid aside as comparatively worthless.
turned out to be of considerable market
value. More unexpected still, the defaulting
agent, who had carried with him a part
of the purchase-money of the West India
estate, in a form not easy to negotiate,
soothed his conscience to a certain extent,
by restoring the same.

These incidents, unluckily, only followed
the colonel's death. Unaware that his
available assets quadrupled the loan he had
accepted from Melusina, the honest
gentleman by his will bequeathed every shilling
that remained to him, in reduction of that
debt. Lastly—"confiding absolutely," said
the will, "in the oft-repeated promise of my
dear wife that she will ever regard and
treat my beloved daughter as if the latter
were her own child—I commit our Geraldine
to her sole control and guardianship,
until she shall come of age or be
married."

The Lady of the Sea had won indeed!

The discovery of her position was a
thunderstroke to Geraldine, and cost her bitter
tears. The loss of her inheritance she might
have borne, since it seemed, in a measure,
due to accident; but that her father, so
loving and considerate, should have
delivered up his darling, bound hand and foot,
to the woman whom, alone of all living,
she hated, and whose objects she had openly,
though vainly, opposed, this proved the
existence of some sinister power which
might still be exerted to her harm.

There was no help—but there was hope.
Melusina's nature might have benefited by
later associations. Her language was open
and affectionate. Geraldine felt that she
might be doing her injustice. Nevertheless,
she clung instinctively to her present
happy refuge, and would have been content
to remain for ever. At last, however, the
summons came.

Mrs. Fonnereau wrote that she had
disposed of Mon Désir, and engaged a
residence better suited to their feelings and
circumstances. It was a large old mansion
known as "Leafy Dell," situated in a very
quiet neighbourhood, where she and her
child might, with little interruption, enjoy
the sad but sweet remembrance of happy
days gone by. Geraldine must (she added
with sweet authority) give her first proof
of duty by joining her there immediately.

This was accompanied by a letter to the
Superior, to the same effect; with the
addition that the writer, in accordance with a
promise given to her husband, in his last
hours, intended to withdraw, for the present,
from the world, and devote herself, wholly