the baronet observed the strange-looking man
he had noticed in the circus. He called Lily's
attention to him, and asked if she knew who he
was.

Lily started. She had seen that face before;
she remembered it well; yet she could not tell
when or where.

"Yes," she said, "I have seen him before—in
Paris—no, not in Paris, before that, somewhere,
somewhere."

While the girl was wondering, the men
paused in the porch witli their burden, until
the door was opened by Mrs. Snuffburn. Mr.
M'Variety took this opportunity to arrest the
further progress of the crowd of idlers who had
followed the litter through the gardens. When
the countess had been carried in, he remained in
the porch to prevent the mob from entering the
house. The man with the grey hair and the
dark eyebrows and moustache presented himself,
and desired to be admitted.

"I cannot allow you to pass," said the
manager.

"I am a friend of the lady," said the stranger,
"an old friend."

"Oh, no doubt," said the manager, " and I
dare say the mob at your heels are all old friends
of the lady too."

"I assure you, sir, I am speaking the truth,"
said the stranger, earnestly; "let me pass, I
beseech you."

Sir William Long and Lily came up at this
moment. The stranger no sooner saw Lily than
he started, and, uttering an exclamation of surprise,
held out his hands to her.

"Lily Floris! Lily Floris!" he exclaimed,
"do you, can you remember me?"

Lily shrank from the man in alarm.

"Do you really know this young lady?"
asked the baronet.

"Yes, sir," the stranger replied, " and her
mother also. I am her oldest friend, one that
might have been her dearest friend, and have
saved her from this." He whispered a word in
Sir William's ear.

"You may let this person pass, Mr. M'Variety,"
said Sir William; " it is no idle curiosity that
brings him here."

No, indeed, it was no idle curiosity that
prompted Jean Baptiste Constant to follow the
bruised and bleeding form of the woman he had
once so deeply, madly loved; to seek to stand
beside her, perhaps in her last moments, and
tell her that though she had rejected his love
and requited his kindness with ingratitude and
scorn, he was yet willing to forgive her all.
They carried the countess up into the gilded
apartment. It was blazing with light, and the
table was laid for supper—that supper to which
she had invited her aristocratic friends, promising
to make a night of it and be gay.

The men, as they bore her into the room,
stumbled among wine-baskets and dishes of
fruit that had been set upon the floor ready for
the feast. They carried her at once into her
own room, and were about to lift her upon the
bed, when the surgeon, drawing aside the curtains,
discovered that it had been made the
temporary receptacle for champagne bottles. These
hastily removed, the injured woman was laid
upon the bed; and she lay there for some
minutes apparently lifeless, with the full blaze
of the lights from the great chandelier falling
upon her livid face.

The doctor, finding only a slight scalp wound
over her temple, was inclined to think that her
injuries were not serious; and this opinion
seemed to be confirmed when she opened her
eyes and looked about her calmly. But presently,
when she drew a full breath, she put her hand
to her side and uttered a cry of pain. This told
the doctor that there were other injuries, and
that the case might be more serious than he
had first imagined. He begged Mr. M'Variety
to send for another surgeon at once. This was
done, and in the mean time the surgeon in
attendance endeavoured, with the assistance of
Lily and Mrs. Snuffburn, to undress the patient.
This, however, she resisted, waving them off
with her hand, and groaning piteously every
time she drew her breath.

When the other surgeon arrived, a second
attempt was made to undress her, but she screamed
so dreadfully that the doctors were fain to
desist. She lay with her eyes wide open, fixed
and staring blankly; her breath was coming in
short quick gasps, and at every gasp she
uttered a moan. The doctors felt her pulse,
and looked at each other anxiously.

Sir William Long and Constant, interpreting
their looks, stepped forward to ask their opinion
of the case.

"I am afraid she is sinking," said the surgeon
of whom he made the inquiry; "she has
received some internal injury, and refuses to be
moved."

Presently the countess turned her eyes full
upon Lily, who was sitting weeping and trembling
by her bedside, and said, in French:

"Is he here?"

Lily looked at her through her tears
inquiringly.

"Constant, Constant," her mother gasped
out; " Jean Baptiste Constant!"

Constant, who was standing at the door with
Sir William Long, heard her mention his name,
and entered the chamber.

The eyes of the woman were waiting for him,
and when he came upon her view she held out
her hand to him.

Constant sprang to the bedside, and, falling
upon his knee, took up the hand from the
counterpane, upon which it had fallen, and
kissed it.

He had kissed that hand once before, when it
was rudely drawn from him with a bitter word
and a mocking taunt. It was not drawn away
from him now.

"Jean Baptiste Constant," she said, feebly,
"I am dying; that beast has trodden the life
out of me. "Tell these people to retire, all but
you and—and my child."

The doctors and Mrs. Smiffburn retired, and
Constant and Lily were left alone by the bedside