"That is exactly what he has done, Mrs.Romayne.Naturally enough, he felt the disgrace of his sister's marriage to such a man as the General.Only the other day he heard for the first time that she was a widow--and he at once traveled to England.Ibade them good-by yesterday--most happily reunited--on their journey home again.Ah, I thought you would be glad, Mrs.

Romayne, to hear that the poor widow's troubles are over.Her brother is rich enough to place them all in easy circumstances--he is as good a fellow as ever lived.""Have you seen him?" Stella asked, eagerly.

"I have been with him to the asylum."

"Does the boy go back to France?"

"No.We took the place by surprise, and saw for ourselves how well conducted it was.The boy has taken a strong liking to the proprietor--a bright, cheerful old man, who is teaching him some of our English games, and has given him a pony to ride on.He burst out crying, poor creature, at the idea of going away--and his mother burst out crying at the idea of leaving him.It was a melancholy scene You know what a good mother is--no sacrifice is too great for her.The boy stays at the asylum, on the chance that his healthier and happier life there may help to cure him.

By-the-way, Romayne, his uncle desires me to thank you--""Hynd! you didn't tell the uncle my name?""Don't alarm yourself.He is a gentleman, and when I told him Iwas pledged to secrecy, he made but one inquiry--he asked if you were a rich man.I told him you had eighteen thousand a year.""Well?"

"Well, he set that matter right between us with perfect taste.He said: 'I cannot presume to offer repayment to a person so wealthy.We gratefully accept our obligation to our kind unknown friend.For the future, however, my nephew's expenses must be paid from my purse.' Of course I could only agree to that.From time to time the mother is to hear, and I am to hear, how the boy goes on.Or, if you like, Romayne--now that the General's family has left England--I don't see why the proprietor might not make his report directly to yourself.""No!" Romayne rejoined, positively."Let things remain as they are."Very well.I can send you any letters that I may receive from the asylum.Will you give us some music, Mrs.Romayne? Not to-night?

Then let us go to the billiard-room; and as I am the worst of bad players, I will ask you to help me to beat your accomplished husband."On the afternoon of the next day, Mrs.Eyrecourt's maid arrived at Ten Acres with a note from her mistress.

"Dearest Stella--Matilda must bring you my excuses for to-day.Idon't in the least understand it, but I seem to have turned lazy.

It is most ridiculous--I really cannot get out of bed.Perhaps Idid do just a little too much yesterday.The opera after the garden party, and a ball after the opera, and this tiresome cough all night after the ball.Quite a series, isn't it? Make my apologies to our dear dismal Romayne--and if you drive out this afternoon, come and have a chat with me.Your affectionate mother, Emily Eyrecourt.P.S.--You know what a fidget Matilda is.If she talks about me, don't believe a word she says to you."Stella turned to the maid with a sinking heart.

"Is my mother very ill?" she asked.