broke down, and cried as if her heart would break.
Lady Laurence looked on astounded, wondering what on earth the girl meant, but did not attempt to move—did not even suggest a chair to her visitor.
The girl, however, soon recovered her self-control, and continued:
"Poor dear Francis. He would never let me write to you or tell you."
"What do you mean?" inquired Lady Laurence, but I feel sure her heart sank with a premonition of trouble in store. "Poor Francis?—to whom do you refer?"
The girl—she was very young—threw up her head on hearing the hard tone of voice.
"I refer to my late husband—Lieutenant Francis Laurence," she replied in a steady voice.
"Your husband?" The elder woman could hardly trust her voice, it seemed to be lost. "Why—why—Francis was not married?"
"Pardon me, but he was," answered the visitor. "And, moreover, we have a little boy three months old; it was about him, in particular, that I came to see you."
The elder woman looked at the speaker with blank amazement in her face, and at the same
