The whole of that night Emilia spent in prayer and thought. She sought for guidance, and her prayers were answered. With one exception the events of the past came clearly before her. The death of her father, her life in Mrs. Seaton's house, her first meeting with Gerald, what occurred on the night she was turned by the cruel woman into the streets, the kindness of the maiden sisters, her flight after overhearing the vile calumnies which Mrs. Seaton uttered against her, her meeting with the good old wagoner--and then a blank. She could not remember where the wagoner's cottage was situated, and she knew it would be impossible to find it without some practical clue. The marriage at the registrar's office she now distinctly recalled, and although she had never held the marriage certificate in her hand, she was certain the ceremony had been performed. Then came the memory of the happy honeymoon, and with that memory certain words which Gerald had spoken to her with reference to the desk of Indian workmanship which he had said was her property, but which his brother Leonard retained with other articles which rightfully belonged to her. The words were these: "There is a secret drawer in this desk, Emilia, and in the desk something which concerns you nearly." It flashed upon her with the power of a divine revelation that what he referred to was the marriage certificate, which, if she could obtain it, would insure her daughter's happiness and save them both from disgrace. She placed credence no longer in the infamous statement made by Leonard, that she had gone through a false ceremony; she had believed it at the time because of her wish to escape from her persecutors and defamers, because Gerald was lost to her, because she thought only of the present. The image of Gerald, with his truthful eyes, rose before her; she heard his voice, the voice of truth and honor, say mournfully, "And could you believe that I could be so unutterably base and infamous as to deceive you so shamefully, that I could plot and lie for your ruin, whom I loved so faithfully?" No, she would no longer believe it. Gerald had behaved honorably toward her, and she had allowed herself to be tricked by the specious tale of a villain whose object was to obtain possession of the fortune which would have fallen to her. He was welcome to that, but she would at least make an effort to rescue her darling child from despair. She would go to England and endeavor to find Leonard. That done she would boldly confront him, and tell him to his face that he had lied to her, and that she would expose him if he did not furnish her with the opportunity of establishing her marriage with Gerald. She would not confide in Constance, for the present, and for as long as it was in her power to do so, she would preserve her secret. Time enough when she was compelled to reveal it.

She acted as she was inwardly directed. The following day she told Constance that business of a private nature necessitated her going to England. Constance was to go with her, and they would be away from Geneva probably some six or seven weeks.

"We shall be back before Julian returns," said Constance, and then was seized with consternation. "But his letters, mamma, his letters!"

"We can leave directions," said Emilia, "that they shall be forwarded to the London Post-Office. It will only be a delay of a day or two, and you can make your letters to Julian longer, as a recompense."

Emilia named London, a city she had never visited, because she had often heard Leonard say that it was the only place in England worth living in. With money at command that would be the most likely place in which to find him.

Julian's family were surprised at this sudden departure, but Emilia easily explained it by saying that it was upon private business of importance. By her directions Constance wrote to Julian at once, informing him of their movements, and bidding him address his future letters to her to the General Post-Office in London. Then Emilia made arrangements for a lady to take her place with her pupils during her absence, and all her preparations being completed, she and Constance started for England.

What would have embarrassed her had Constance been of a less sweet and confiding disposition was the necessity of her conducting her inquiries alone, without the knowledge of her daughter. She explained this to Constance as well as she was able.

"You will not mind being left a good deal alone, dear?" she said, when they were established in lodgings in London.

"No, mamma, if you wish it," said Constance.

"It is necessary, darling. I have some business of a very private nature to look after; if you were with me it would hamper me. I cannot tell you now what it is, but it is for your good and mine."

"And Julian's," said Constance.

"Of course, and Julian's. You will not mind, will you?" "No, mamma, not at all. I can get books, and I can write to Julian."

"You think only of him, dear."

"And of you, mamma," said Constance, reproachfully.

"Yes, my dear, yes. I think I must be growing jealous."

"There is no reason, mamma dear. I love you both with all my heart. And Julian loves us both with all his. And you love us both with all yours. So it is really equal all round."

"Constance," said Emilia, "if it were ever to happen that you had to choose between Julian and me----"

"Mamma," cried Constance, "you frighten me!"

"Forgive me, darling, forgive me," said Emilia, hastening to repair her error by caresses, "but all sorts of notions come into a foolish mother's head when she is about to lose her child."

"Now, mamma," said Constance, forcing her mother into a chair and kneeling before her, "I am going to be very severe with you. How, can you talk of my choosing between Julian and you? Why, mamma, it is impossible, it would break my heart! And how can you talk of losing your child? You will never lose her, darling mamma. Instead of losing me you will have another to look after as well as me; you will have Julian, who loves you nearly, not quite--I will not have that--as much as I do."

"Never, Constance."

"And you will never think it again?"

"Never, dear," said Emilia; and she was careful from that hour to keep a more jealous guard over her tongue.

At this period of Emilia's life there entered into her soul a surprising strength. She became strong, morally and physically. All her energies, all her intellectual faculties, were braced up almost abnormally in the momentous mission upon which she was engaged. Feeling the importance of a starting-point, she determined to visit her native town, and to visit it alone. She learnt from the time-tables that a train started at 5 P.M. and arrived at 10. On the following day a train from London started at 4 P.M. and was due some six hours after, so that she need be absent from Constance for one night only. It was her first separation from her child, but she nerved herself to it, and instilled the same spirit into Constance, who consented without a murmur. Constance was to have her meals at home, to keep her doors locked and not stir out, and to wait up the second night for her mother's return.

"I shall be quite safe, mamma," said Constance, "and I shall not be dull. Nearly all the time you are away I shall be writing to Julian."

That night Emilia was once more in her native town. Eighteen years had passed since she left it, and it was with sadness she recognized familiar landmarks with which her childhood had been associated. She had taken the precaution of effecting a change in her appearance. She darkened her eyebrows and arranged her hair in a fashion so strange as to be startled when she looked into the glass. Moreover, she wore a thick veil. "No one will know me," she thought. But when she issued from the hotel the next morning she was a little afraid, for among the first persons she met was Mrs. Seaton. The cruel woman was but little altered; her features were more pinched, her eyes more stern than of yore, but Emilia knew her instantly. Mrs. Seaton, however, did not recognize Emilia, although she looked at her sharply, as was her wont with strangers. There was in the town a gossip who kept a small shop, and thither Emilia went, and, entering the shop, was greeted by the same woman who used to serve her in former years. Making some............