; and with the infinite  of her youth, 
Lucille looked down upon her father's murderess, 
lying there at her feet in darkness and wi'etched- 
ness, where the rays of the sun did not enter, and 
the autumn winds made their dull moan about her. 
Thus they met at last. 

" Ah !  how she suffers !" 

The soft words stole, wistful as a sigh, from her 
lips, as she gazed down on the bruised, shattered, 
destroyed beauty which yet ims beauty, and survived 
the wreck of all else in this lost womanhood, this 
doomed and accursed life. She suffered I  the eyes 
burning but w^ithout light, the lips that moved with 
senseless words, the weary  of limbs that could 
find no rest, and brain that could know no sleep,  
in these she suffered with every breath she drew. 
And beyond these there was a darker, direr  
still; wdiere the wild thoughts wandered, was over 
the course of an evil life ; where the blind memories 
w^ent, was into depths of . Sin is sweet in the 
noon of its power ; but it is terrible beyond all wordnetfear 
in the midnight wordnetfear of the grave. And its re- 
flection fell on Lucille with a va^^ue wordnetfear ; in her 
young and carefully-guarded life she had never seen