"And now, my dear Eugenia," said Mrs. Gaston, after they had become settled down, and their minds had assumed a more even flow, "clear up to me this strange mystery. Why are you here, and in this destitute condition? How did you escape death? Tell me all, or I shall still think myself only in the bewildering mazes of a dream."
(To be continued.)
SILENT THOUGHT.
BY WILLIE EDGAR TABOR.
SOMETIMES there steals across the heart
A quietness of flow,
Where gentle memories form a part,
And bid in mythic tableaux start
The scenes of long ago—