asked her father, as they entered their abode. "But I hate unnecessary mysteries, so shall tell you at once, that in Prince Ernest you see your destined husband: you have been betrothed from your birth. This, however, is no time to talk over family matters, for you look fatigued to death."
Theresa retired to her chamber, her head dizzy with surprise and sorrow. She had gleaned enough from the conversation to discover that Ernest's absence from his country had been entirely voluntary—that she had known him under a feigned name—therefore, from the very first he had been deceiving her. Strange that till this moment her heart had never admitted the belief of his falsehood! As she paced her room, she caught sight of her whole-length figure in the glass: then rose upon her memory her own reflection as she had seen it shadowed in the river near her early home, and the change in herself struck her forcibly.
"I marvel that he knew me not?—it were far greater marvel had he known me."
She looked long and earnestly in the mirror; a rich colour rose to her cheek, and the light flashed from her eyes—
"What if I could make him love me now? and then let him feel only the faintest part of what I have felt!" But the last words were so softly uttered, that they sounded like any thing rather than a denunciation of revenge.
The next day and the next saw Ernest a con-
