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THE FATE OF FENELLA.

"Alas! no. She left no address, and I haven't the faintest notion where she resides. But stay," putting her hand up to her forehead, "if I remember rightly, Mme. de Vigny did hint at traveling abroad and taking a long journey. Why, Frank, how impetuous you are!" as her visitor opened the door. "Where are you going?

"Going!" he replied, his face all working with emotion. "I am going straight to London to engage a detective to hunt out Mme. de Vigny's whereabouts, and after that I intend returning to Guernsey. Fenella is lying dangerously ill of brain fever. We do not know what turn her illness may take. The doctor thought that the sight of Ronny might do her good, but now—now," breaking down suddenly, "I must go back alone, so help me God." And without wishing Mrs. Grandison good-by, he rushed downstairs.

Helen looked after his retreating form with the tears springing to her eyes. "Poor Frank!" she sighed, "how he loves Fenella. And yet she has completely spoilt his life. He was such a bright, nice boy once upon a time. It quite makes one's heart ache to see him as he is now."