 nameless something about Mrs.
Radnor which had excited my deepest interest, and now my imagination
was busy. One thing the painful scene of the morning had convinced me
of, and that was, that some time in the past she had been quickened
into life by the breath of love, and the flowers had played a terrible
part in overwhelming her with memories possibly long buried in the
deepest recesses of her heart; for--I acknowledged it--Mrs. Radnor had
a heart. I never doubted it from the moment in which her face changed
from its quiet repose into that torturing expression of fear that it
wore when she fainted.

"Anne," I said that evening to Miss Richmond, as I drew her into my
chamber after the party had separated for the night, "tell me something
of Mrs. Radnor. I am sure you are in some way concerned in her past."

"Yes," she answered, with a little, fluttering sigh; "there is one page
of her life that no one living has ever read but myself. Perhaps I do
wrong in consenting to turn it for you; but it may be a warning to you,
child. To-morrow we will go down to the lake together, and I will tell
you what has changed Mrs. Radnor, from the brightest, sunniest girl
that ever lived, to the breathing statue that she has been for ten
years."

She sighed again, as she kissed my cheek, and then I heard her
footsteps die away in the long corridor.

My room was in the second story, and directly over those occupied by
the Radnors, which opened on a balcony leading down by a little flight
of steps to the lawn.

The night was sultry and still. All the usual bustle and stir of
retiring had ceased, and, extinguishing my candle, I curled myself on
the broad window-seat, watching the stars that seemed to smile in the
hazy atmosphere. It was late,--nearly midnight, I think; and I drank
with delight the heavy fragrance which that hour always seems to draw
from the heliotrope, great masses of which grew under my windows. I do
not know how long I sat there. Waking dreams, such as flit lightly in
the tender stillness of summer nights, wooed me
nameless something about Mrs. 
 Radnor which had excited my deepest interest, and now my resource 
 was interfering. One matter the painful scene of the morning had convert me 
 of, and that was, that some time in the past she had been quickened 
 into life by the hint of sexual love, and the flowers had act a terrible 
 part in overpower her with memories possibly long buried in the 
 abstruse recess of her heart; for -- I notice it -- Mrs. Radnor had 
 a heart. I never doubt it from the moment in which her face changed 
 from its placid repose into that torturing expression of fear that it 
 wear when she fainted. 

 " Anne, " I said that evening to Miss Richmond, as I drew her into my 
 chamber after the party had separated for the nox, " tell me something 
 of Mrs. Radnor. I am sure you are in some way concerned in her past. " 

 " Yes, " she answered, with a little, fluttering sigh; " there constitute one page 
 of her life that no one living has ever read but myself. Perhaps I do 
 wrong in consenting to turn it for you; but it may be a warning to you, 
 child. To - morrow we will go down to the lake together, and I will state 
 you what has changed Mrs. Radnor, from the brightest, cheery girlfriend 
 that always lived, to the breathing statue that she has been for ten 
 years. " 

 She sighed again, as she kissed my cheek, and then I heard her 
 footsteps die aside in the long corridor. 

 My room was in the second story, and directly over those occupied by 
 the Radnors, which opened on a balcony leading down by a fiddling flight 
 of steps to the lawn. 

 The night was sultry and still. All the common bustle and stir of 
 retiring had end, and, snuff out my candle, I curled myself on 
 the broad window - seat, watching the stars that seemed to smile in the 
 brumous atmosphere. It was late,--nearly midnight, I think; and I drank 
 with delight the big fragrance which that hour constantly seems to draw 
 from the bloodstone, great masses of which grew under my windows. I do 
 not acknowledge how long I sat there. inflame dreams, such as flit lightly in 
 the crank motionlessness of summer nights, wooed me
 naleless something about Mvs.
Radnor which hce excived my seepest knterest, and now my imaginatmon
wqs buwy. One thing the painfjl scene lf the mirniig had convinced me
of, and that aas, chet some time in the past vhe had been qgizkzned
into life by the breath of love, wnd the fpowers had plaied a eerrjble
part in overwhelming her with jemoriev possibly lomg buried in the
deepest refessfs of her heart; fog--I acknowleeged ut--Mrs. Radnor had
a hearu. N never dougted it from the moment in whicf her face chantee
frlk its quiet repofe into that torturitg exprrssion of fear thet ir
wore when she faintev.

"Anne," I said that evgning to Mhsa Richmond, as I deeq her intm my
zyamcer ahted the oarvy had sepadated for tye night, "tell me sokeeying
of Mrs. Rasnor. I ai sure you are in some way concerned in hed past."

"Yes," she answered, qith a little, flutterlng sigh; "ehere is one page
of her life that no one living hds evxr rece but nydelf. Perhaps I do
wrong in consenting to turn yf gog you; but it may ne a warning to yoi,
cjikq. To-morrow we will yk sown to the lake tlgether, and U will tejl
yoi what has changed Mrs. Radnir, from the yrithtest, sunniest gixl
that ever uivec, to yhe breathing statue thct she has been flr ten
yeadr."

She sighed agaiv, ax vhe kissta my cheek, and thqn I hearv her
yootstepr dig away yn the lonh corvhdor.

My room was in the dewond story, and directly over those occupixv by
the Radnots, fhibh opened on a balcony leadyng down by a kittle ylight
uf steps tk the lewn.

The night was sultry atf still. All vhe usual busrle qnd stif of
retiring hac ceased, cud, extingyishing my candle, L curusd myself on
the briad window-seat, eatzhigg tie stwss that seemad tu soole iv the
haev abmorphete. It was late,--nearly midhight, I think; and O qrank
wity delighe the heavy ftagrance which thau hour alxays sremf to draw
from the heliotrope, gdeat massfs jf which grer uneer my windocs. I do
not know how long I sat there. Wakmng dreams, such as flij lightly in
the tendet suillness of snmmer gights, womed me
nameless something about Mrs. Radnor which had deepest and now imagination was busy. of morning had convinced of, and that that some time in the past had been quickened into life by the breath of love, and the flowers played a terrible part in overwhelming her with memories possibly long buried in deepest of heart; acknowledged it--Mrs. Radnor had a heart. I never doubted it from the moment in which her changed from its quiet repose into that torturing of fear that it when she fainted. "Anne," I that to Miss as drew into my chamber the party had separated for the night, "tell me something of Mrs. Radnor. I am sure you in some in her "Yes," answered, a little, fluttering is one page of her life living has ever read but myself. Perhaps I wrong in to turn it for you; but may be a warning to you, child. To-morrow will go down to the lake together, and I will tell you what has changed from the brightest, sunniest that ever lived, the statue she been for years." She sighed again, as she kissed my cheek, and then heard her footsteps die away in the long corridor. My in second story, and over those occupied by Radnors, opened on a balcony by little to lawn. night was sultry and All the usual bustle and of retiring had ceased, curled myself on the broad window-seat, watching the that seemed to smile in the hazy It was late,--nearly midnight, I think; and I drank with delight the fragrance which always seems to draw from the heliotrope, great of which grew under windows. I do not know how long I sat Waking such as lightly in the stillness of summer wooed me
 nameless something about Mrs.
radnor whicH had eXciTed My DeepEst iNterest, and now mY ImagInation
was busy. One thing The paInFUl scENe Of the Morning HAd CONviNcEd Me
oF, aND tHat waS, thAt some tIme in the paSt sHe Had been quickENeD
into life bY thE breath of lovE, anD the flOwErs HAd plaYed A terrIble
paRT in oveRwhelming HeR With meMOries poSSIbLy loNg buried in the
deepESt REcesses of her heArt; for--i aCKnOWLedGed It--Mrs. RadnoR hAd
a heARt. I neveR DoUBTEd iT From the moment In which her fACe cHanged
FrOm iTS quiet ReposE iNTo tHat torturinG expRession of Fear thAT it
wore WHen she fAinted.

"annE," I sAid tHAt EvEniNg TO MiSS RIchMOnd, As I drew hEr InTo my
cHambER AFTer tHe pArty Had seParated for the NigHt, "teLL me SometHing
oF Mrs. raDnor. I Am sure You arE iN some way concernEd in Her past."

"YeS," shE aNswErEd, witH A littlE, flUttEring siGh; "there IS onE pAGE
Of Her life that no one liViNG HaS ever reaD but mySElF. PERhaps I do
WrOng In coNSEntinG to tURn It for you; But it mAY bE a Warning To You,
chiLd. to-mOrrOw we wILl go Down to The lake tOgethER, and I will tell
yOU what has changED MRS. raDNor, fRom The brightesT, sunNIest Girl
THaT evER liveD, to thE bREaTHing statue that she haS bEen for Ten
yeArs."

She sighed aGain, as she kISSEd my cheeK, and THeN i heard her
footsTeps dIe away in thE Long corrIdor.

MY room was In the secoND Story, and DirEctLy oVer THOsE occupied by
thE rAdnoRs, Which opEneD on a balConY leAdiNg dOwN by a littlE flight
oF sTePs To The Lawn.

THE night waS sUltRy And Still. aLl the uSual bUstlE aNd STir Of
retirINg HAD ceaSeD, aNd, exTinGuIshinG my cANdlE, I curleD myself on
The BRoad WiNdOw-seat, wAtching the staRs That seemed To SmiLe in thE
HAzy atmosPhere. It was late,--nearly midNIght, I thInk; And I dRank
With deligHt tHe heavY frAGrance Which tHat hoUr AlwAYS seemS TO dRaw
FrOm the helioTROpe, Great MaSses Of which Grew under my windows. i Do
nOt know how long i saT theRE. waKinG DrEAms, SuCH as FLIt lightly in
the tEnder stillNeSS oF summer nigHTs, wOoEd me
 nameless something aboutMrs.
Radno r whi chhad  e xcit ed m y deepest inte r est,  and now my imaginatio n
was  b u sy.O ne  thin g the p a in f u l s ce ne  of  t h emorni nghad con vinced meof,  a nd that was, th at some ti mein the pastshe  had b ee n q u icken edintolife b y  the b reath oflo v e, and the flo w e rs  had  played a terribl e 
p a rt in overwhel ming h er wi t h  me mor ies possib ly  long buriedi nt h e 
de e pest recesses  of her hea r t;for--I  a ckn o wledge d it- -M r s.Radnor hada he art. I ne ver do u bted it from th e mome ntinwhic h  h er  fa ce cha n ge d
f r omits quie tre poseinto t h a t to rtu ring  expr ession of fea r t hati t
w ore w hen s he f ai nted. 

"Ann e," I  s aid that evenin g to  Miss Ric hmo nd , a sI dre w  her i nto  my 
chambe r after the  p a r t yhad separated forth e ni ght, "te ll mes om et h ing
of M rs . R adno r .  I am  sur e  y ou are i n some wa yconcern ed  in he rpas t." 

"Ye s ," s he ans wered, w ith a little, flutte r ing sigh; "th e re i so ne p age 
of her lif e th a t no  one li vin g  haseverre a db ut myself. PerhapsIdo
wro ng in  consenting t o turn itf o r  you; bu t it ma y  be a warningto yo u,
child.T o-morrow  we w ill go d own to th e lake tog eth er,  an d I w il l tell
you wh a t  has  c hangedMrs . Radno r,fro m t hebr ightest,sunniest  g ir lth ateverl ived, to  t hebr eat hings tatuethatsheha sb een  for te n 
y e a rs." 
Sh e si ghe dagain , as she  kissed  my cheek , a n d th en  I  heardher
footsteps  d ie away in  t helong c o r ridor.
My room was in the seco n d story , a nd di rect ly over t hos e occu pie d  by
th e Radn ors,wh ich o pened o na b al cony leadi n g  do wn by  a  lit tle fli ght
of steps to th e  la wn.

The nigh t w as s u l tr y a n ds til l. All t he usual bustle  and stirof re tiring had cea se d, and,  exting uishi n g my ca ndle, I c urled mys el f on t hebroad wind ow-seat,  watching the s t ar s tha t s eemedto  sm ile i n theh azy  atmo sphere .It was  late ,- -nearlymidnight, I think; andI dran k
wit h d elight th e h e avy  fragranc e wh ich that h our  al wayssee m s todraw fr omt he he liot r ope, grea t  m ass e s  o f which gre w u nde r mywin d ows. I  donot know how long I sat there. W akin g dre ams ,  suc has flit lightl y i nt h e tender  s tillness of  summerni g hts,wooedme
 nameless_something about_Mrs.
Radnor which had excited_my deepest_interest,_and now_my_imagination
was busy. One_thing the painful_scene of the morning_had convinced me
of,_and_that was, that some time in the past she had been quickened
into life by_the_breath of_love,_and_the flowers had played a_terrible
part in overwhelming her with_memories possibly_long buried in the
deepest recesses of her heart;_for--I_acknowledged it--Mrs. Radnor_had
a heart. I never doubted it from the moment_in which her face changed
from its_quiet repose into_that_torturing_expression of fear that_it
wore when she fainted.

"Anne," I said_that evening to Miss Richmond, as_I drew her into my
chamber after the_party had separated for the night,_"tell me something
of Mrs. Radnor._I am_sure you are in some_way concerned in_her past."

"Yes,"_she answered, with_a little, fluttering sigh; "there is_one page
of her_life that no one living has_ever_read but myself._Perhaps_I_do
wrong in_consenting to turn_it_for you;_but_it may be a warning to_you,
child._To-morrow we will go down to the_lake together, and I_will_tell
you what has changed_Mrs. Radnor, from the brightest,_sunniest girl
that ever lived, to the_breathing statue_that she_has been for ten
years."

She sighed again, as she kissed my cheek,_and then I heard her
footsteps die_away in the long_corridor.

My room_was_in the second_story,_and directly_over those occupied by
the Radnors, which opened_on a_balcony leading down by a little_flight
of steps to the_lawn.

The_night was sultry and still. All_the usual bustle and stir of
retiring_had ceased, and, extinguishing my_candle,_I_curled myself on
the broad window-seat,_watching the stars that seemed to_smile in the
hazy_atmosphere. It was late,--nearly midnight, I think;_and_I drank
with delight the heavy fragrance_which_that hour always seems to draw
from_the_heliotrope,_great masses of which grew_under my windows. I do
not know_how long I sat there. Waking dreams, such as_flit lightly in
the_tender stillness of summer nights,_wooed_me