His professional and natural acuteness
enabled Sidney to make a shrewd guess at
the real state of the case. He surprised
Zillah one day, when her husband was
absent at his studio, into a confession that
she knew this man. And after a little
gentle cross-examination, the trembling
woman burst into tears and revealed the
whole story.

Zillah's motherless youth had been passed
in Paris, in the home of a father for whom
it was impossible for her to feel either
affection or respect. His associates were
either men of his own character, or young
scions of rich or noble houses, who
frequented Fenton's shabby, tawdry little
salon for the purpose of enjoying the
excitement of high play.

Amidst such surroundings Zillah grew
to be sixteen: little more than a child in
years, but a woman in one sad and sordid
phase of world's lore. Her notions of
right and wrong were solely derived from
her own untutored instincts. These were,
in the main, good and pure. But she was
ignorant, uncared-for, motherless—and she
fell.

Coarse appeals to vanity or greed would
have been powerless on Zillah. But the
poor child was unable to resist the
impulses of an undisciplined heart. She
scarcely, even, conceived that it behoved
her to resist them.

She believed the passionate protestations
of love—protestations not wholly insincere
when uttered—of a noble gentleman whom
she looked up to as the ideal of everything
splendid and heroic.

The story was trite. Its denouement
was trite also, save in one particular.
This one exceptional particular was the
unexpected and absurdly unreasonable
despair of Zillah, when she perceived that
her god was an idol of clay; that he had
ceased to love her: and when he informed
her, with a good deal of well-bred dexterity,
that he was about to make a mariage de
convenance at the urgent solicitation of his
noble family, he was quite amazed at the
girl's violence. He was willing to behave
handsomely. But when Zillah started away
in horror from his offers of money, like one
who suddenly sees the flat cruel head of
a snake rear itself from a flower he has
been caressing, M. le Vicomte was really
shocked. In what Fool's Paradise had the
girl been living, to give herself such mock-
heroic airs? The daughter of le vieux
Fenton! Que diable! His lordship began
to look on himself as a victim, and to pity
himself a good deal; which state of mind
had the desirable effect of quenching the
pity for her, which the girl's pale passionate
face and streaming eyes had aroused to a
quite uncomfortable degree.

Then came a second blow. Captain
Fenton was willing to receive his daughter
back again, but on conditions against
which the girl's whole nature rose up
in revolt. He had discovered that his
daughter was attractive. Why should she
not assist him in that Devil's recruiting
service, which he still carried on zealously,
but with very fluctuating success?

In brief, to return to her father's home,
would be to plunge into a black gulf of
shame. Zillah told herself that she was
desperate; that she cared not what became
of her; but from her father and her father's
associates she shrank with a shuddering,
invincible repulsion.

Then the extraordinary reserve force of
courage and endurance with which nature
had endowed the girl, made itself felt. She
was eighteen years old, alone in Paris, and
almost penniless. But she struggled like
a strong swimmer buffeting the waves.
She thought that she wished to die; that
the waters should close over her wretched
head, and let her be at rest. But her
youthful vigorous limbs struck out, as it
were, involuntarily.

Then, one watching on the shore, stretched
out—not a hand, not a warm, comforting
human clasp, but—a staff, to her aid. A dry
hard stick was held to her, and she clasped
it. It was something to cling to. A
woman who knew her history, engaged Zillah
to attend on her children, and to teach
them English.

For five years the poor girl was a drudge
whose physical fatigues and privations were
the lightest and least regarded part of her
sufferings. But she pursued her solitary
way inflexibly. In teaching she learned.
She worked with amazing industry, to
qualify herself for a better position: and
she succeeded. Her blameless life and
unwearying activity had softened even her
mistress's dry heart towards her; and when
Meess Fenton left her employment, this
woman gave her such recommendations as
procured for her a situation in England.

From that time, her worldly prospects
seemed clear and tranquil.

After a year or two, she had known
Robert Lockwood, and the world was
changed for her.

"I loved him so!" said Zillah, sobbing,
to Sidney Frost. "I had thought I should