Lillian has told me, I am aware that she is a person of weak
intellect, and her stories are not worthy of credence, but I thought
it due to you, nevertheless, to bring the matter to your notice."

At the mention of Miss Wilson's name D'Alton turned deadly pale. He
was a bold man, and capable of carrying out a deep scheme, had he
felt so disposed; but this intimacy of Trevelyan with his daughter
was the result of no scheme, and he had for some years lived, with
the rest of his family, a blameless life, rejoicing in the fact that
his neighbors either did not know, or had forgotten, or overlooked
his past career, and were prepared to receive his children with open
arms into society. With bated breath he ran his eyes hastily over
the letter held out to him by Trevelyan, and in an instant he saw
the whole situation. If he could only have had time to consider the
matter, he would probably have taken the right course, come what
might; but he had little time for decision, as Trevelyan stood
before him, eagerly expecting a reply. Mr. D'Alton pictured to
himself the state of affairs did he acknowledge the truth of the
accusation, and though loath to deceive the young man (whom he
already loved almost as dearly as his own son), he dared not ruin
his daughter's prospects by an avowal. Pretending to read the letter
once more he gained a little time, and then, with consummate
diplomacy, endeavored to find out what Trevelyan thought. Looking up
coolly, he said--

"And do you believe all this, Trevelyan?"

Of course, Trevelyan _did not_ believe it, and was profuse in his
apologies, for having permitted himself to doubt for a moment that
the writer was bereft of reason. This confirmed Mr. D'Alton in his