"Are you willing to stay here alone now?" he said again. "I'll
order your meals sent to your room, and to-morrow night I shall
return."
"If I only knew you meant for sure," said Edith, trembling at the
thought of being deserted in a strange city.
Suddenly she started, and looking him earnestly in the face, said
to him,
"Do you love that pretty lady in the glass--the one Mrs. Atherton
thinks I stole?"
Arthur turned white but answered her at once.
"Yes, I love her very, very much."
"Is she your sister, Mr. Arthur?" and the searching black eyes
seemed compelling him to tell the truth.
"No, not my sister, but a dear friend."
"Where is she, Mr. Arthur? In New York?"
"No, not in New York."
"In Albany then?"
"No, not in Albany. She's in Europe with her father," and a shade
of sadness crept over Arthur's face, "She was hardly a young lady
when this picture was taken, and he drew the locket from its
hiding place. She was only thirteen. She's not quite sixteen now."
Edith by this time had the picture in her hand, and holding it to
the light exclaimed, "Oh, but she's so jolly, Mr.
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