to enter, turned back once more to earth; she did not speak, but her involuntary start, and the sudden rush of color that flushed her pallid face, betrayed her recognition of him.
Grasping her firmly by the arm, he asked in breathless entreaty: "Tell me—who is that girl? I adjure you—by the memory of Alice—answer me."
For one moment Elsie Campbell wavered—here was the betrayer of her only child—and for one moment revenge seemed sweet to her still; but then she thought of Alice, her darling, left alone in the wide, cruel world—no friend, no protector; this man was her father—and love conquered pride: the rigid lips painfully unclosed, and with an evident effort she murmured hoarsely: "Your child, my lord!—my Alice's daughter."
Another moment, and the officer had sprung from his saddle and stood by Sir William's side, his eager hand upon the governor's arm.
"Sir William—hear me; you know my life's sad history, and my unsuccessful search; I believe that girl to be my long-
