A. LITTLE 
 
 PRINCESS 
 
 BY 
 
 Caroline Hart 
 
 * 
 
 HART SERIES No. 10 
 
 Copyright, 1909, by The Arthur Westbrook Company 
 
 Published by 
 
 THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY, 
 CLEVELAND, U. S. A. 
 
^Printed In the United States of America/ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Chapter 1 « « 
 
 
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 Chapter II * 
 
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 Chapter III « 
 
 
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 Chapter V - * 
 
 
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 Chapter VI 
 
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 Chapter VII * 
 
 
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 Chapter VIII - 
 
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 Chapter XI « 
 
 
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 Chapter XII -» 
 
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 Chapter XIII - 
 
 
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 Chapter XIV, * 
 
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 Chapter XV • 
 
 
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 Chapter XVI 
 
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 Chapter XVII 
 
 
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 Chapter XVIII 
 
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 Chapter XIX 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Chapter XX 
 
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 Chapter XXI 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Chapter XXII - 
 
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 Chapter XXIII - 
 
 
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 Chapter XXIV, 
 
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 Chapter XXV 
 
 
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 Chapter XXVI 
 
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 Chapter XXVII - 
 
 
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 Chapter XXVIII 
 
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 Chapter XXIX « 
 
 
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 Chapter XXX - 
 
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 Chapter XXXI - 
 
 
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 Chapter XXXII 
 
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 Chapter XXXIII 
 
 
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 Chapter XXXIV 
 
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 Chapter XXXV - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 Chapter XXXVI ' 
 
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 Chapter XXXVII 
 
 
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 23^ 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 By 
 
 Caroline Hart 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 The windows were open, and the draft occasioned 
 by the assage of air from the fan-light over the door 
 comir iigling with the circulation through the casement 
 tow ,ied agreeably the brow of a young man who sat, 
 w' .h palette, brushes and maul-stick, gazing critically, 
 upon a portrait which rested on the easel before him. 
 The sun through the sky-light made the heat of the 
 room rather greater than it otherwise would have 
 been. But Ballard Hilliard worked on as diligently 
 as if his daily bread depended upon the rapidity of 
 the strokes of his skillfully wielded brush. Not that 
 it did, you know, for the clever young artist was one 
 of those favorites of the gods who seemed to have 
 reached the rainbow and its consequent bags of gold 
 without the smallest effort upon his own part. 
 
 His brother artists sighed enviously. 
 
 “Not but what he deserves his success, you under¬ 
 stand,” they would explain to each other; “but if he 
 were a poor devil without a dollar with which to bless 
 
 1153391 
 
e 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 himself the world would not take such pains to dis¬ 
 cover this remarkable talent of which they now seem 
 so proud.” 
 
 But Ballard Hilliard paid no attention either to their 
 remarks or his own success. He loved art for art’sf 
 sake, and he slaved and toiled early and late—not for' 
 the number of ducats that resulted therefrom, but the 
 glow of an ideality lightened and brightened his life. 
 He had before him a grand ambition, and toward that 
 goal every act of his life was to him a step. He 
 wanted to be great, and to know that he deserved his 
 greatness. He wanted no fame purchased by his social 
 position and the wealth that had come to him as an 
 inheritance through generations. He wanted not the 
 glory of a day. He had no desire for that short-lived 
 notoriety that made him the lion of the hour. 
 
 He wanted his name to go down to posterity. He 
 wanted to feel within himself that future generations 
 would know him even better than his contemporaries 
 had done. And he deceived himself in nothing. He 
 was his own severest critic. He spared himself in 
 nothing. He grieved over his failures and delighted 
 in his successes as a mother does over her best-loved 
 child. i 
 
 And that was the passion of his soul. He was liv¬ 
 ing in dreams of the future. 1 
 
 He was thinking of that, perhaps, as he sat there 
 upon that golden day in June, gazing at the ideal head 
 upon the canvas, when a light, quick knock sounded 
 upon the door. In answer to a rather impatient 
 “Come in!” the door opened, and a small figure, bear¬ 
 ing a basket laden with flowers, entered. 
 
 It was a tiny, piquant face, with a singular p*s<ec- 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 71 
 
 lion of feature that touched his artist’s soul with a 
 Sudden thrill. She was small, almost childish in 
 jappearance, but there was a roundness, a willowy grace 
 to her form that he had never seen equaled, and as 
 she stood there in the center of the floor, holding her 
 'basket up for his inspection, her exquisite face dimp¬ 
 ling with a smile that seemed to be all in her eyes, 
 though the dimples were near her mouth, he gazed 
 in silence as he might have done at some masterpiece 
 of art that touched and thrilled the lost chord of his 
 inner self. 
 
 “Want some flowers ?” she asked, with an almost 
 boyish intonation of speech and audacity. 
 
 Her voice was musical, in exact accord with her 
 appearance, and the very slanginess of her manner 
 seemed to sit well upon her piquant self. Ballard 
 [Hilliard’s magnificent dark eyes softened as they 
 rested upon her. 
 
 “Are you selling them?” he asked, scarcely con¬ 
 scious of what he was saying. 
 
 “You don’t suppose I am giving them away, do 
 you?” she questioned, saucily. “When I go to 
 OBloomingdale it will be as an attendant and not a 
 lunatic, and don’t you forget it! Want to buy?” 
 
 “Perhaps. Where do you live?” 
 
 “Avenue B, top flat, tenement row. Would you 
 like to know the number? If you will call, there 
 might be something to interest your artistic eye there 
 in the shape of Persian portieres , Sevres china and 
 Guido’s masterpiece. We got the last named for re¬ 
 turned tea tickets. As my mother always teaches me 
 to be entirely truthful, I had better add that it is not 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 the original, but a copy. Would you like to know the 
 brand of tea that they give them with?” 
 
 “Thanks, no. I never drink tea,” returned Hilliard, 
 with perfect earnestness. 
 
 “You miss half the good of life,” she said, with a 
 grin. Then, turning to a stand of fading flowers: 
 “That’s about the best picture you’ve got here, isn’t 
 it? That is one thing that none of you fellows can 
 do—you can’t get over nature.” 
 
 “I quite agree with you,” lie replied, studying ad¬ 
 miringly the changes in her lovely countenance. “Did 
 you ever have your portrait painted, little one?” 
 
 “Pooh, no! One or two of the fellows have asked 
 me, but I want no one to do that who is not a worthy 
 successor of Rembrandt or Raphael. Perhaps Titian 
 could do best, for he could catch the light in my hair 
 that the others would fail upon. I think it would 
 make me so seasick that I should never recover if I 
 were to see chromos of myself like those I have seen 
 of some ladies of society. I have been around artists’ 
 studios more or less all my life, and after the shocks 
 I have received, I have schooled myself not to see the 
 contents of their work-rooms at all.” 
 
 “Are you so good a judge?” 
 
 “Well, perhaps not in an artistic way, you under¬ 
 stand; but I have absorbed a sort of knowledge of 
 things in general regarding art that I couldn’t have 
 escaped if I had tried. It had to come to me like the 
 measles and chicken-pox come to more fortunate chil¬ 
 dren. I don’t know anything else.” 
 
 “Do you come from a family of artists, then?” 
 
 “Yes. My grandfather was Roderick Millbourne. 
 My father was Donald Melbourne.* 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 9 
 
 The names she had mentioned were so v/ell known 
 in the art world that Ballard Hilliard sprung to his 
 feet. 
 
 “You don’t mean it?” he cried. “Why, my prize 
 possession is a painting by Roderick Millbourne! 
 They were the greatest artists— But, pardon me, 
 how—” 
 
 j He could not complete his sentence, but stopped in 
 considerable embarrassment. 
 
 “How does it come that I am selling flowers in the 
 streets?” she said, quietly, though a trifle bitterly, 
 finishing his sentence for him. “Do you remember 
 the old quotation from ‘Pinafore’: Things are sel¬ 
 dom what they seem’? It has been so in our case. 
 You know my father’s misfortune. The whole world 
 knew it. What he made one day he spent for rum 
 the next. The picture-dealers got the money that 
 rightfully belonged to him, and nobody ever found out 
 that he was great until after he was dead and my poor 
 mother a pauper.” 
 
 Hilliard tried to find something to say, but some¬ 
 how he felt tongue-tied in the presence of that tiny 
 flower-girl who stood there before him like a small 
 princess in disguise. He could not express his sym¬ 
 pathy for her in words, but there was a note in his 
 .voice far more eloquent when he said: 
 
 | “And your mother. Does she live?” 
 
 “Yes,” answered the girl, her great eyes roving 
 to the window sadly, her lip quivering under an 
 emotion that she was striving to conceal. “She 
 lives, but— Don’t make me speak of it, sir. My 
 mother is dying as rapidly as a woman can who is 
 
1C A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 on her feet from morning until night. She won’t give 
 up, and some night—” 
 
 She did not finish her sentence, but turned suddenly 
 and was walking rapidly toward the door when Hill- 
 liard caught her by the arm. 
 
 “You must not go—at least not yet,” he cried, his 
 own voice trembling as he saw the white anguish of 
 tier face. “I admired the work of your grandfather 
 and of your father as I have done that of no modern 
 artist. You must let me come and see your mother 
 for your father’s sake. You must—” 
 
 “No, you can’t do that. She is very proud. She 
 'does not know that I sell flowers, and it would break 
 her heart if she did. She thinks that I am in a pri¬ 
 vate office in one of the dry-goods stores; but I lost 
 my position there and did not dare to tell her for fear 
 the shock would kill her. We are very poor. There 
 is an old blind florist that has a place not far from our 
 house, and I sell for him. We divide the profits, and 
 she knows nothing of it. I think it would kill her 
 outright if she knew I am in the streets all day. I 
 have sold them for a year now, and she has never 
 Suspected. I have my regular customers—and it pays 
 better, much better than the store. But she is growing 
 Weaker every day. There is not a night that I go 
 home that I can not see the change the day has 
 brought. Oh, sir, I try to be brave, but it is breaking 
 my heart!” 
 
 “Poor child. Poor little one!” whispered Hill¬ 
 iard, more touched than he remembered ever to have 
 been before. “How strangely hard life is for some, 
 and so easy—so easy for others who could better bear 
 the trials. But you must let me come to see her—• 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 II 
 
 yuur mother, you know. You must let me, for your 
 father’s sake, you understand. Come, look here! 
 You see I am not a bad artist, as modfcrn ones go. 
 Look at this. I am going to ask your mother’s con* 
 sent to paint your portrait.” 
 
 He had turned her around and led her toward the 
 canvas, which, though incomplete, showed the superb 
 talent of the painter. Her face brightened as if urn* 
 der the influence of sunshine. * 
 
 “Oh, I say, did you do that?” she cried, in sucK 
 genuine surprise and admiration that he laughed out¬ 
 right. 
 
 “Yes,” he answered. 
 
 She did not speak for many minutes, but stood 
 there apparently drinking in the work of art in su¬ 
 preme delight. • 
 
 “Your drawing, your coloring, your technique, your 
 style are perfect!” she cried, at last, with suppressed 
 enthusiasm. “Ah, you work from love! It is there in 
 every sweep of the brush. Your fame is a dowry 
 from Heaven. An unfinished portrait such as that, 
 even if you were to die to-night, would be a monu¬ 
 ment that would perpetuate your name through all 
 the ages.” 
 
 Hillard’s face flushed as he listened. All his life 
 he had received praise, but none had gone to his heart 
 like that. 
 
 “Who is she?” asked the girl, nodding at the can¬ 
 vas. “She is the most beautiful woman I ever saw.” 
 
 “She h an ideal. I thought her beautiful, too, until 
 I saw you. Pardon me; I don’t wish to be rude. I 
 may surely admire the work of God even as you ad¬ 
 mire mine. Not to the woman, but the artistic model, 
 
12 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 I say that you are the most exquisite piece of molding 
 that I have ever seen. For the sake of art, let me 
 paint you. You have the soul of an artist. It is born 
 •in you. I beg it as a favor— : for the sake of the be¬ 
 loved mistress of both our hearts, let me-paint you!” 
 
 She put out her hand and raised her eyes humid 
 with tears. 
 
 “It shall be my humble contribution to your future 
 greatness,” she said, softly. 
 
 She did it for love of art. Is it God who rules 
 events such as that? Can it be that He, who doeth 
 all things rightly and well,' writes it in the book of pre¬ 
 destination a situation such as that, with the awful 
 future veiled? 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 “Carroll!” 
 
 There was a rather heavy brush between Ballard 
 Hilliard’s teeth which thickened his articulation a tri¬ 
 fle, but not sufficiently to make the word misunder¬ 
 stood. His eyes were fixed upon the portrait and not 
 the model. She heard, but waited for him to continue 
 He repeated: 
 
 “Carroll!” 
 
 “Hun!” 
 
 “Are you tired?” 
 
 “Dead tired! My neck is cramped and both arms 
 are fast asleep.” 
 
 “Let us rest awhile. My fingers are paralyzed from 
 holding this palette.” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 13 
 
 “That is why you thought of my fatigue, I sup¬ 
 pose. 5 ’ 
 
 He laughed as he laid his brushes and palette away. 
 
 She came up behind him and leaned over his chair, 
 catching her breath in a little gasp of surprise. 
 
 “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You are idealizing again. 
 I thought you were going to paint me as I am.” 
 
 “I am: I have. One can not improve upon the 
 idealization of God. I could not paint you as beauti¬ 
 ful as you are without an inspiration from Heaven.” 
 
 He spoke with suppressed enthusiasm, as he always 
 did when her beauty was referred to. The speech 
 was followed by an embarrassed silence on the part of 
 Carroll Melbourne. Hilliard observed it, and wishing 
 to relieve her, exclaimed, briskly: 
 
 “Look at that!” holding up his middle finger for 
 her inspection. “I did not feel it while I was at work, 
 but see how the brushes have pinched my fingers. They 
 usually callous it and make it sore, but this is a regu¬ 
 lar blood-blister.” 
 
 “Let me open it from the under side,” said Car- 
 roll, turning in a business-like way from the contem¬ 
 plation of her own pictured, poetical beauty to the 
 most prosaic matter of relieving a blood-blister. 
 “Where are your needles? Ah, here!” 
 
 She selected one, and kneeling beside him, took his 
 hand in hers. As she bent her pretty head above it, 
 a slow flush mounted from Ballard Hilliard’s throat 
 to his brow. A soft light burned in his superb eyes 
 such as no woman had been able to call there before. 
 A smile trembled upon the corner of his finely cut 
 mouth, and for the first time in his life he realized 
 that love of a woman was master of love of art; that 
 
114 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 there was something besides a canvas and brushes in 
 the world; that the human heart was the perfected 
 work of God, and that his had been played upon by 
 the great Guiding Hand. 
 
 He forgot all else than that. He cared to remem¬ 
 ber nothing. He knew that he loved the girl who was 
 there so closely beside him, with his hand clasped in 
 hers almost tenderly, and— 
 
 He did not complete the thought, for she had lifted 
 her head, and was about to rise. 
 
 "There!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think you will 
 have any more trouble with that. You are ruining 
 your hands.” 
 
 He watched her rise as one watches a sunbeam go. 
 He looked at her hungrily, yearningly, for a moment; 
 then he too arose, with a sigh smothered in his heart, 
 and rapidly walked the floor with bent head, evidently 
 thinking deeply, unhappily. 
 
 The mental conflict had whitened his lips and drawn 
 his brows, but Carroll did not see. Something in his 
 'manner had made her nervous, though she could 
 scarcely have told what, and she had turned to his 
 'desk, upon which were scattered numerous etchings 
 and photographs in artistic negligence. She was turn¬ 
 ing them over carelessly, almost without seeing them, 
 when he approached and stood beside her for some 
 seconds in silence. He was not looking at her, but 
 down at the tiny brown hands that were fluttering in 
 and out among the pictures; and his thoughts were 
 away as well. 
 
 He was thinking of the woman who held his prom¬ 
 ise of marriage—thinking of how little she knew the 
 Sneaning of love compared with this grand passion 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 IS 
 
 that he felt for this flower-girl with her artist’s soul. 
 He was wondering if honor was the rivet in a loveless 
 bond, or if honor did not compel him to break it. 
 'And then Carroll glanced up with a smile, and he met 
 her eye. 
 
 The work was done. 
 
 f 
 
 He forgot that other woman to whom his pledge 
 belonged. His passion had crept from his heart to 
 his head and entangled his brain. He leaned forward 
 and slipped his arm about the girl, drawing her to 
 his breast. * 
 
 “Carroll,” he whispered, “are you too much an 
 angel to know the meaning of love ?” , 
 
 His arm held her; his hand pressed her cheek down 
 upon his bosom. She did not reply, but lay there 
 trembling, with downcast eyes and flushed face, mak¬ 
 ing no endeavor to release herself. v 
 
 “Sweetheart,” he whispered again, “look at mel 
 Have I frightened you? Forgive me-! The strength 
 of my love is so great that I can control it no longer 1 
 Have you not seen how it was with me? Could you 
 not read all the struggle in my heart? Ah, Carroll, 
 speak to me!” 
 
 She lifted her eyes, a smile of heavenly happiness 
 in their depths. 
 
 “What is there to say?” she asked. 
 
 “That you love me!” 
 
 “Would you know it better then than now? Can 
 you not feel it?” 
 
 Hilliard smiled—a little, staggering sort of effort. 
 
 “I want to hear you say it,” he answered, tenderly. 
 “I want to know it from your lips. My darling—Gar- 
 
16 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 ling, if 3 'ou knew how my love has mastered me! It is 
 the one thought of my heart—the strongest emotion 
 of my soul! Carroll, answer me!” 
 
 She lifted herself in his arms just a trifle, and 
 smiled up at him with almost delirious ecstacy. 
 
 “You want my lips to speak the words that my 
 heart has said to you a thousand times?” she ques¬ 
 tioned, happily. “I love you! Is it enough?” 
 
 “Yes, if love means to you what it does to me. I 
 have never loved before, and I have loved much 
 longer than you. Oh, dearest heart! there is such 
 sweetness, such joy in holding you in my arms and 
 knowing that your life is mine!” 
 
 “And it is—all yours!” 
 
 He bent his head and kissed her—a long, passion¬ 
 ate embrace that contained nothing of impurity, noth¬ 
 ing that could tarnish her perfect chastity. 
 
 L He was striving to control his emotion as much as 
 possible, lest he alarm her; but it required a tre¬ 
 mendous effort. His entire self seemed submerged in 
 the overwhelming desire to have her for his own. 
 Great passions come to great natures suddenly, and 
 his left no room for any other thought. 
 
 For some time there was silence between them, 
 when each seemed listening to the beat of the other’s 
 heart; then, with his lips upon her own, Hilliard whis¬ 
 pered : 
 
 “When will you be my wife, my own?” 
 
 “Not yet,” she answered. “You must wait. Not 
 long, you know; but until my mother is better.” 
 
 “It must be soon. There are so many things that 
 1 have to tell you; but just at first I want to feet the 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 1Z 
 
 sweetness of you life without thinking of the past. 
 You trust me, do you not, Carroll ?” 
 
 “Absolutely I” 
 
 “And yet there are some things in my life which 
 you must know—some things which you must hear 
 from me alone. If I could only make my life a clean 
 page like yours, for your sake, my love, I should be 
 so glad—so glad!” 
 
 “I am satisfied with you as you are. If you were 
 different in one thing my love would of necessity be 
 less. Oh, how can you, so great, so grand, care for 
 an insignificant creature such as I?” 
 
 “There is no woman under God’s sun to compare 
 with you. Your beauty never has and never will be 
 reproduced. Your purity is as great as that of an 
 angel. Your soul is that of an artist. Does mortality 
 go beyond that? Dearest love, if I were but worthy 
 of you my happiness would be too complete!” 
 
 “Hush! I am half afraid of my own joy. There 
 has been so little of sunshine in my life that it seems 
 to me that the cloud must come while I am basking 
 in the delicious warmth. I have felt that you cared, 
 yet I dared not frame the thought.” 
 
 “You are the one and only love of my life, my own; 
 yet there are things that you must know.” 
 
 “No. I am more than satisfied with that. Let the 
 rest go. What is your past to me? It is the future 
 that is mine and God’s.” 
 
 He kissed her once again with reverent devotion. 
 
 “And God deal with me according to my fidelity 
 to you!” he said, slowly, the flush of ideal passion 
 upon his cheek. 
 
18 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 Three months lay in the dead past, for Happiness 
 and beauty and love must die, even as misery and 
 hatred are included in dissolution. The months lay, 
 dead, yet unburied, still held under the caress of mem¬ 
 ory. <••! 
 
 How happy those two were, Carroll and Ballard 
 Hilliard! Life was like che sun in the middle-da); 
 sky to them. They saw nothing but each other, 
 heard nothing but each other, wanted nothing but 
 each other. They spoke to each other in sighs, in 
 glances and caresses. They adored each other, con¬ 
 tent in silence. 
 
 The portrait progressed slowly. To Hilliard, Car- 
 roll seemed to grow more beautiful with each hour, 
 and where at first he had been satisfied with his work 
 he now found flaw's—defects that no care or pains 
 could erase. 
 
 “You are too beautiful for any but a god to paint, 
 my little princess!” he said to her often. “I must 
 give it up. If you were dead, and I saw you only by 
 the light of memory, I could do it then, and the world 
 would call me famous, but never while you are before 
 me. I see too clearly then how short I fall of the per¬ 
 fection of the original, and the failure disheartens me. 
 I must be satisfied with the possession of the fairest 
 flower of the universe, even if I can not make it live 
 for future ages.” 
 
 But still the sittings continued. Each day lie 
 scarcely seemed to live until he heard her well-known 
 tap upon the door; then heaven opened. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 19 
 
 "When are these partings to end, my little prin¬ 
 cess?” he said to her one day as she was leaving him. 
 ".When are you to become my wife before all the 
 world ?” 
 
 "Scon, Ballard,” she answered, with that upward 
 glance that expressed her love so well. "Not quite 
 yet. I am foolish, but the thought of change hurts 
 me. Wait until my mother is better. Then, dear 
 heart— Shall we be so happy—after!” 
 
 ‘ "Does it make you happy to go from me? It will 
 be an eternal union!” 
 
 She looked at him without replying. There was a 
 long caress, so deep, so tender, so true. What is 
 there left in life to one who has tasted so much of 
 
 bliss ? 
 
 She went out into the early gloaming of that still 
 September day, her heart light under its flutterings of 
 love. There was a song in her soul—a song of g\ ati- 
 tude to God for the richness of his blessing. She 
 noticed nothing of the busy, bustling world about her. 
 She paid no heed to where she was going, but walked 
 more by instinct—from habit—than from any sight 
 that directed her. Her thoughts were filled with him 
 whom she had left behind. When she came to their 
 poor home she paused and sighed. 
 
 Was not there something in contrast? Would life 
 be the same to her when she had left that wretched 
 place forever? At least there was happiness with 
 Ballard Hilliard, wherever she might be. Comforted 
 by that thought, she mounted the long, steep flight 
 of stairs and very softly opened the door. 
 
 Instead of the pale face of her mother that had 
 always greeted her, she was met bv a lady charm- 
 
20 
 
 A LiTTLE PRINCESS 
 
 ingly though simply attired, her pure, noble, high¬ 
 bred face wearing an anxious look. She had removed 
 her hat and gloves the jewels upon her hands looking 
 strangely out of place in that poorly furnished room. 
 
 “You, Miss Kingman—and at this hour!” exclaimed 
 Carroll, her face growing pale under an intangible 
 fear. “Has anything happened?” 
 
 Before replying, Geraldine Kingman took the beau-' 
 tiful face between her hands and kissed it. I 
 
 “I hope nothing serious, Mignonne,” she answered, 
 gently. “I called to-day to see your mother, know¬ 
 ing that she had not been well of late, and I found 
 her more ill than I thought. I persuaded her to go 
 to bed and summoned a doctor.” 
 
 “And now?” gasped Carroll. 
 
 “She has not been well, you know. The doctor 
 says—” 
 
 “What?” 
 
 “Don’t be frightened, Mignonne. It is so difficult 
 to tell in these early stages, and he may be mistaken 
 after all.” 
 
 “But he said—” 
 
 “ Something about—small-pox.” 
 
 “My God!” 
 
 The girl staggered back; but the tender arms of 
 the woman of society supported her, leading her to 
 a chair near by. 
 
 “You need your strength, dear child; and she needs 
 you, too. She has called for you so often—so often 
 during the last two hours.” 
 
 Carroll colored painfully as she remembered where 
 she had been, forgetful of all save her own selfish 
 
LITTLE PRINCESS 31 
 
 joy, her own boundless love. Then the thought of 
 Miss Kingman's danger came to her. 
 
 "Great heavensl” she cried, starting up in wild 
 horror; "you should not be here. Oh! why have 
 you remained? Why did you not go when he told 
 
 I you the hideousness of it all? Have you forgotten? 
 Don’t you remember the frightful—” 
 
 She seemed unable to continue, and Miss King- 
 man smiled. 
 
 "I am not afraid, dearest,” she said, soothingly, 
 "If one’s friends think of self in moments like this, 
 where would the charity of the world be? The terrible 
 epidemic is raging, Carroll; you will not, therefore, 
 find many that will stand by you now. Every one 
 is afraid. You must not let any one suspect in the 
 house. We are doing everything possible to prevent 
 the disease getting through the house in the event of 
 its proving what we fear. You understand? I have 
 persuaded the doctor that it will not be necessary to 
 send her away until—until we know beyond a doubt.” 
 "Away! Where?” 
 
 "There are places, you know—<” 
 
 "You mean the pest-house?” 
 
 ; Miss Kingman did not reply, 
 i "Great—” 
 
 ! "Hush!” she whispered. "Did I not tell you that 
 I had persuaded the doctor not to send her?” 
 
 J "Not until he knows!” 
 
 "But he will never know until she is well, or—- 
 Carroll, you are very beautiful, child. Would you—” 
 But the girl seemed to divine what her friend, or 
 more than friend, would say, and with a gesture of 
 horror she put out her hand. 
 
22 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “Don’t say it!” she cried. “Don’t think me so 
 vik! Have I been neglectful of her? Forgive me 
 —forgive me! I love her—oh, how I love her! It 
 will kill me if—” j 
 
 “But it won’t come to that!” interrupted Miss 
 Kingman. “ We won’t allow it to come to that. 1 
 am going to remain, you know-all the time, you 
 uaderstand. We will nurse her, you and I, night 
 and day. We will save her; and after that her health 
 will be better than ever, for it clears the system, this 
 disease, and after it one is always so well.” 
 
 As she listened to the kind voice trying to cheer; 
 her, Carroll’s courage gave way, and leaning her 
 head upon her friend’s shoulder, she burst into bitter 
 tears. 
 
 “You are the best friend a woman ever had,” she 
 said to Geraldine, when her tears had ceased to flow. 
 “One would know how to give up life—more than 
 that—love, for you. Some time I shall find a way to 
 repay you.” 
 
 Then she went to her mother. 
 
 The next morning she got a boy to take a note to 
 ■Ballard Hilliard. It was brief. 
 
 “Love,— Do not expect me until you hear again. 
 My mother is ill—dying, perhaps. I dare not tell 
 even you what is wrong. Do not come. I do not 
 ask, but command it. Trust me. With my heart, 
 “ Your own Carroll. ” 
 
 And then these two—the society queen and the 
 flower-girl—went on with their work, nursing that 
 frail form back to life again. And, ah, what weary 
 work it w'as S As they knelt beside the bed one night. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 23 
 
 watching the poor face, Carroll took the noble one 
 of her friend between her hands. 
 
 “Think”-—she exclaimed, with dull anguish — “think 
 of your face being like that! Think of the hideous 
 mark each one of those awful pustules will leave. 
 Have you no thought of self? Are you an angel?” 
 
 Miss Kingman smiled. 
 
 “Only a woman,” she answered, gently . “Is not 
 that enough? Must a woman be always a vain cow¬ 
 ard? Dearest little one, I told you once that if you 
 ever needed a friend you should call upon me. You 
 see, I found it out for myself, and the friend is here.” 
 
 “God bless her!” 
 
 ? And so the days lengthened and vanished, a week 
 came and went; then the doctors told them one morn¬ 
 ing that Mrs. Millbourne would live. It came almost 
 with a greater shock to Carroll than had the knowledge 
 of her illness, for she had almost despaired; but 
 when she could choke her heart into subjection she 
 turned, with the tears streaming over her face, and 
 threw her arms about Miss Kingman’s neck. 
 
 “What do I not owe you?” she cried. “You have 
 saved her—my dear, dear mother! I owe her life 
 to you—it is worth more than mine, much more. 
 [Without you I could have done nothing— nothing! 
 Thank God, thank you —my noble, noblest friend!” 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 They were seated in the conservatory, beautifully, 
 artistically filled with tropical plants, those two— 
 
24 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Carroll Melbourne and Geraldine Kingman. 1* was 
 the home of the latter, magnificent in its combina¬ 
 tions of modern comfort and antique loveliness— a 
 fit setting for a gem so rare as Geraldine Kingman. 
 
 She was not beautiful, in so far as regularity of 
 [feature constitutes beauty; but there was a grace 
 of carriage, a nobility of bearing, a grande-dame 
 manner that far surpassed all that. She was as 
 generous as nature, as true as death, and there was 
 something about her that seemed to tell it to you in 
 a language that was unmistakable. To Carroll she 
 combined all the virtues with none of the vices of 
 the goddesses of old. She worshipped her. She felt 
 herself capable of any heroic sacrifice for the sake of 
 her friend, and Geraldine Kingman, the darling of 
 society, returned the flower-girl’s affection. 
 
 It was the first time that Carroll had left her mother 
 after the long and painful illness that had confined 
 her for so tedious a time, and a smile of hope and 
 happiness rested upon the charming lips that Miss 
 Kingman kissed. 
 
 “It seemed as if she were really well, to see you 
 little one,” Miss Kingman said, tenderly. “It was 
 good of you to come to me first, Mignonne.” 
 
 “And where should I have gone first if not to you?” 
 asked Carroll, pressing the hand she held, while long- 
 repressed tears filled her eyes. “What friend have 
 I so good, so true as you? Did ever a woman live 
 so self-forgetful, so noble, so—” 
 
 “There—there!” interrupted Miss Kingman, with 
 a light, happy laugh. “Why, you would make me 
 so vain, child, that my closest friend would find dis¬ 
 gust for me instead of affection.” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 25 
 
 *1 should like to tell the whole world what you 
 have done for me !” 
 
 “And I should be bitterly offended if you should. 
 I have no desire to pose as a heroine, Carroll. I am 
 a very happy woman, little one, and it is my great¬ 
 est pleasure to show my gratitude to God for Kis 
 goodness to me, who deserves it so little, by any work 
 that comes in my way, by any little deed of kindness 
 to a fellow-creature. I don't want thanks. I don’t 
 want advertisement to the world. I only desire the 
 approval of my own conscience, which contains the 
 approbation of Heaven. Do you think that the bravos 
 of the world could make me happier than I am?” 
 
 Carroll glanced about her admiringly. 
 
 “You have everything to make life beautiful/’ she 
 said, softly. 
 
 An expression such as she had never seen upon it 
 before crossed Miss Kingman’s face. It seemed to 
 be illuminated with* a holy, a divine love, such as 
 dawns but once' in life, and hovers then upon the 
 soul but a moment, too dear and too sweet even to be 
 held by the breath of the heart. 
 
 “And yet you see so little of what I really have,” 
 she answered, a tender throb in her voice. “Ah, if 
 I could only tell you! Did you ever realize, Carroll, 
 that there is something in life that goes beyond ex¬ 
 pression? Did you ever think that there is one emo¬ 
 tion in life that the tenderest word will wound? Ah, 
 child, you will never have lived until you have loved V' 
 
 Carroll dropped upon her knees, her hands hold¬ 
 ing those that rested upon Miss Kingman’s lap, her 
 glowing eyes raised. 
 
 “And you have loved like that?” she whispered. 
 
26 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “Like what? Have I said anything—expressed 
 anything? How little it was; how short of the real¬ 
 ity! Surely there must be some word beyond love 
 to express it! It is so weak, so impotent! And yet 
 there can be none, for God is love, and there is nothing 
 beyond Him. But you can’t understand, and I can’t 
 explain. He is a god—so handsome, so chivalrous, 
 so noble! I wish I could tell you. But there are no 
 words. I seem to be like a tiny child .groping in the 
 wilderness of its little heart for a word that it has 
 never learned to utter to express a thought that is 
 pressing upon its tender soul. Ah, love is my heart, 
 my soul! Carroll, listen. Can you realize what it is 
 to love so that one would die if denied the love that has 
 become more than life?” 
 
 She was looking at the girl at her feet so earnestly, 
 so scrutinizingly that the lovely face fell. 
 
 Could she, Carroll Millbourne, understand a life 
 like that—she who had known Ballard Hilliard ? She 
 almost laughed aloud at the thought. Then, very 
 slowly, she lifted her head until her lips touched those 
 of her friend. 
 
 “I can understand,” she whispered, “for I too love 
 and am loved!” 
 
 A close, warm embrace followed; then Carroll sat 
 there upon the floor with her exquisite reddish-gold 
 head upon Miss Kingman’s knee, the long, slim 
 fingers of the woman of fashion flashing in and out of 
 the sunny rings. There was a dreamy smile upon the 
 lips of each. They spoke little. There seemed to 
 be nothing to say. Then Miss Kingman leaned over 
 and touched her friend’s cheek. 
 
 “And this man who has won your heart,” she said. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 softly—“what of him, my little Carroll? Does he 
 love you as you deserve ?” 
 
 “More! He adores me as I worship him.” 
 
 “How happy we both are! God bless you, dear. 
 And we love each other, do we not, Carroll ?” 
 
 “So much!” answered the girl, looking up con¬ 
 tentedly. “You gave me my mother's life, and be¬ 
 sides that there is a band of sympathy between us 
 now that no time can ever destroy. If I were sure 
 of the granting of any favor that I should ask of 
 God it would be that He should give me some way 
 to prove my devotion to you, my more than friend. 
 Don't tell me that it is foolish. I know it but too 
 well. Yet there is something in my heart that tells 
 me—” 
 
 “What?” 
 
 “I don't know. I can't quite understand. But 
 it is coming, coming! Dearest, kiss me once again.” 
 
 When the head was raised from the requested 
 caress, a servant stood there. 
 
 “A gentleman is in the drawing-room, Miss King- 
 man,” she said, quietly. 
 
 Then, when she had gone Geraldine sprung up. The 
 matronliness had left her face. She was suddenly 
 the blushing, thrilling girl aware of the presence of 
 her lover. She pressed another quick kiss upon Car- 
 roll's brow. 
 
 “It is he,” she whispered—“he of whom I told y6u! 
 Wait for me here. He never remains long when he 
 calls at this hour. He is a great artist, Carroll, and 
 fais work divides his heart with me.” ] 
 
 She was gone before Carroll could reply; but the 
 
28 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 girl sat still upon the floor, looking after her with 
 that same lazy, tender smile. 
 
 “A gteat artist!” she whispered to herself. “I 
 wonder what he is like? Oh, he ought to be a wonder¬ 
 ful man that could win a heart like hers \ How 
 good and great of soul she is! I should like to see 
 what manner of man could win such love from a 
 woman like Geraldine Kingman. I wonder if he too 
 paints portraits, or if he only does animals or land¬ 
 scapes? I should like to see him. I wonder if there 
 would be any harm in my just taking a single glance 
 at him? I am sure-she would not mind, or she would 
 not have told me of her love. I should be so proud 
 to have her see Ballard, and I am quite sure— Just 
 one little glance. Dear Miss Kingman! How much 
 J owe her, and how much I love her!” 
 
 She crept up and advanced noiselessly. The con¬ 
 servatory was separated from the drawing-room by 
 a small reception-room and a heavy portiere . Silently 
 she stepped through. The portiere was drawn a trifle 
 aside. Miss Kingman had evidently stopped for 
 something on the way, for she was just entering the 
 room from an opposite door. A tall manly form rose 
 to greet her. Carroll saw only the back, yet her heart 
 seemed to cease its beating. 
 
 With graceful step he went forward. The sweet, 
 blushing face was raised for the kiss that fell only 
 upon the brow. 
 
 Ah! surely, dear God, that was not the kiss of a 
 lover! A brother might have implanted it there, but 
 never the man to whose keeping a girl has given her 
 very souk 
 
 Carroll had grown white as death. Her limbs were 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 29 
 
 rigid. She tried to move, but she seemed chained 
 to the spot. She would have fled, if only the power 
 had been given her, from—she knew not what. But 
 she could not. Every drop of blood in her veins 
 seemed stagnated, yet her senses were peculiarly 
 alive. 
 
 She saw with horror the same deathless ador- 
 tion that had gleamed in those pure eyes a few brief 
 moments before—that devotion that had filled her 
 with admiration, yet now paralyzed her with terror. 
 Then the two turned. 
 
 Her very soul died in that instant. What kept 
 back the mad anguish that burst through every fiber 
 of her being? What prevented the wild groan of the 
 broken heart? What hushed the death-gurgle in the 
 throat of love? Only God knew. 
 
 She stood there motionless as a statue, dead to 
 every sensation that the human breast can know. For 
 the man before her was Ballard Hilliard! 
 
 In those words lay the death-warrant—nor that 
 alone; it was the crucifixion of a heart. She felt it 
 die as emotion died. Then very slowly she turned, 
 stricken dumb and blind, and turned and crept away. 
 
 She felt nothing, thought nothing. She was dead 
 and the world was dead, and even God had died when 
 the warmth had left the sun. 
 
 It was Ballard Hilliard whom Geraldine Kingman 
 loved—whom Geraldine Kingman had said was more 
 to her than her life! And what was it that Geraldine 
 Kingman was to her? She had forgotten. 
 
 There was no hat upon her head, no scarf about 
 
30 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 her throat as she crept from the house. She had 
 forgotten. 
 
 But suddenly—what was it? Has a thought power 
 to lift dissolution ?—something penetrated through the 
 awful density upon her brain—a remembrance so hor¬ 
 rible that it seemed to set her flesh on fire. She put 
 her hands up to her poor ghastly face; but the hide¬ 
 ousness of her terror was too great even to admit a 
 groan. How dared she face that awful knowledge? 
 She had known it herself less than a w r eek. She had 
 meant to tell him that very day—he who would so 
 soon have been her husband: yet now 7 —God of 
 heaven! what was she to do ? 
 
 The river seemed the only haven open to her. 
 [Would not Heaven find an excuse for her in the 
 burden that had so suddenly—oh, God! how piteously 
 suddep!—grown too heavy for her to bear? 
 
 The knowledge that her friend loved him was surely 
 enough; but this other thing—this hideous secret 
 that now she dared not tell, weighed upon her soul 
 with a heaviness greater than death! 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 No thought of blame or censure entered Carroll’s 
 heart toward the man whom she loved. 
 
 She seemed, with that intuitive perception which 
 is a woman’s dower right, to understand without a 
 syllable of explanation the situation in which Bal¬ 
 lard Hilliard was placed, but the comprehension 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 31 ] 
 
 helped her extremity not in the least* The circum* 
 stances which surrounded her were, to a woman of 
 her natural refinement of birth and breeding—for no 
 poverty can alienate inborn mental delicacy—a source 
 of anguish too great for either words or thought. 
 She knew that something must be done. But what 
 4 —but what ? | 
 
 The day was deliciously warm, fanned by a breeze 
 that was balmy as spring. A curious indolence 
 seemed to rest over nature that imparted a feeling to 
 her sensitive soul which she could not have analyzed 
 even had she tried. t 
 
 The leaves in the park were turning to crimson and 
 gold,, and through them she walked onward, down 
 to the lake that rippled so silently and peacefully on 
 its monotonous way. She sat down, hidden by the 
 still thick foliage of the shrubbery, and lifted hen 
 aching eyes to the clear blue of the sky. 
 
 The frightful pain of that awakening thought was 
 still stabbing through the paralysis upon her brain 
 and heart with hideous insistence. What was she 
 to do ? She asked the question of God, yet the voice 
 of Heaven was silent. * 
 
 Was she suffering for sin committed? Who shall 
 answer ? I 
 
 She knew that Ballard Hilliard would marry her if 
 she would permit it; but then what of Geraldine 
 Kingman, that woman to whom she owed more than 
 her life? 
 
 "I can’t! I can’t!” she groaned at last to that 
 voiceless sun that answers but the command of God. 
 “Lord, I have prayed for some way to show her mjr 
 
32 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 gratitude. Is this the answer to my prayer? Whati 
 right have I to take from her her lover? He was 
 hers before he was mine. .Oh, Father in heaven, help 
 me! Am I to give my honor in exchange for my. 
 mother’s life? Am I? It is too bitter! Yet the sin,| 
 the shame is mine already. It was hidden from me" 
 then under the greatness of my love, but I see it now; 
 cruelly clear. Shall I save myself at the cost of the 
 happiness of the noble woman who risked more than 
 her life for me and mine? Never! At any cost—at 
 any cost I shall do my duty! God help me to be 
 brave!” t 
 
 She bowed her head and groaned, such a groan as 
 would have touched the heart.of a satyr. No tears 
 came to relieve her. She fought out her horrible bat¬ 
 tle, with the lake, the sun, and the silent face of 
 heaven to witness—fought her battle to victory; but 
 the field was marked with the blood-stain of a dead 
 heart. You who are mothers can best understand. 
 
 Then she rose, her numb, stiff limbs feeling like 
 wooden things beneath her, and walked slowly out 
 of the park. Her poor white face was set and piti¬ 
 ful, but as emotionless as cold, pale snow. .With 
 mechanical correctness she hailed a car, got in, paidg 
 her fare, and rode down-town. People looked at herg 
 curiously, for she was hatless, and there was a lookf 
 upon her face that riveted attention; but she appar-j 
 ently saw nothing. She got out of the car at the 
 proper crossing and entered the hotel where Ballard 
 Hilliard had his studio. 
 
 She entered the hall and passed silently down to¬ 
 ward the door of the room where she had been so 
 madly happy, almost forgetful of those old days in 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 33 
 
 the dear, dead past, so curiously close, yet so strangely; 
 <ong ago. She heard his voice singing, that rich, full 
 fearytone that she had so admired in the days that 
 were dead, and paused until he had finished: 
 
 "I need tro stars in heaven to guide me, 
 
 I need no sun or moon to shine, 
 
 While I have you, sweetheart, beside me, 
 
 While I know that thou art mine.” 
 
 There was not a sob in her throat, not a tear 
 dimmed her eye as she heard the little love song, know* 
 ing so well that it was cf her he was thinking and 
 without a knock she opened the door and entered. 
 
 He was sitting before the easel and did not hear 
 her until she stood beside him; then he threw down 
 his maul-stick and sprung up. 
 
 “How long you have been away, love!” he cried. 
 
 And then he saw her face. 
 
 A little, quickly strangled cry escaped him. He 
 grew white to the lips and staggered back without 
 touching her. 
 
 “Carroll!” he whispered. 
 
 She did not reply. He caught the back of the chair 
 for support, and after a moment recovered himself. 
 
 “Carroll,” he repeated, “what has happened? Your 
 mother™” 
 
 “Is w T ell,” she answered, wearily, raising her hand 
 to lift the little damp curl from her brow. 
 
 “But you? What in Heaven’s name has happened? 
 Speak to me! I am—frightened.” 
 
 “What shall I say?” she questioned, slowly. “Whaf 
 is there that one can say? What has happened? i 
 
8$ A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 ft # . 
 
 Son’t know I That is—I don’t know at all! I hav3 
 pome to say good-bye to you, Ballard.” 
 
 “Good-bye ?” - 
 
 ‘‘Yes—eternally!” f 
 
 He looked silently at her for a moment, as if doubt¬ 
 ing her sanity; but there was too much still death iti 
 her eyes for him to think of that. 
 
 “What is it that you mean?” he asked, Hoarsely, 
 “I don’t seem to understand. Am I dreaming, or are 
 you mad?” 
 
 “Would to God it were one of the two,” she an-, 
 iwered, in a passionless way; “but it is neither.” 
 
 “You wish me to understand that our love is at att 
 end?” 
 
 “Our sin, Ballard.” 
 
 “Sin?” 
 
 “Oh, don’t! It is so hard. Bear, don’t think I 
 ’doubt you! To doubt Heaven would be as possible 
 as that. Ballard, Ballard, why did you not tell me, 
 darling? Why did you not let me know before?” 
 
 There was no emotion in her questions. It would 
 have been a thousand times easier if there had been. 
 
 He shivered. » 
 
 “Speak out, for God’s sake!” he cried, heavily.I 
 “What is it that you mean?” | 
 
 “About Geraldine Kingman!” she answered slowly.' 
 
 A crimson flush crossed cheek and brow, yet there 
 was an expression of intense relief in his countenance. 
 
 “ i have been a great coward, Carroll,” he returned, 
 in a shamed voice. “Desire to avoid giving pain has 
 always been the weakness of my character; but you 
 will forgive me that, will you not, my little princess? 
 
 I will po at once and—” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 35 
 
 She stopped him with a gesture. 
 
 “There is no forgiveness between you and me,” she 
 said, huskily. “I have loved you; if my heart were 
 not quite dead I should love you still with a great! 
 love that is beyond earth, but I see now how I have 
 sinned. Do you know what punishment Heaven has 
 Sent me for that sin ?” 
 
 | She paused, looking at him with those great, blank 
 eyes that bewildered him. He dared not reply. 
 
 “God demands that I give you up—that I see you 
 no more. Hush!”—as he was about to speak— 
 “Wait! Do you know who came to us when we were 
 deserted by the whole world? Geraldine Kingman. 
 Do you know who held my father’s hand and soothed 
 his last days on earth, giving him the comforts that! 
 our poverty would have denied us the power of 
 doing ? Geraldine Kingman. Do you know who kept 
 my mother from the poor-house and me from being a 
 beggar ? Geraldine Kingman. Do you know to whom 
 I owe my mother’s life in this last terrible affliction 
 that was sent upon us ? Geraldine Kingman. Do you 
 know to whom I owe the fact that my mother does not 
 lie in Potter’s Field to-day, sent there from the pest* 
 house? To Geraldine Kingman.” 3 
 
 Her voice died away in a whisper. Ballard Hill¬ 
 iard had grown paler and paler as she was speaking. 
 Fie had not known Carroll all these long, happy 
 months without discovering something of the strength 
 of her character, and as she continued, the whole 
 situation was before him as clearly as she could have 
 put it by the loudest lamentations. 
 
 lie knew that her sense of duty, mistaken though 
 it might be, had been aroused, and he knew that h4 
 had lost her. 
 
36 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 He could not have spoken if his life had depended 
 upon it. There was a silence between them that was 
 horrible; then, with a long, weary sigh, she con¬ 
 tinued : 
 
 “I see that you understand, and that you agree with 
 me that we must part.” 
 
 ; “But I don’t!” he cried, passionately. “I don’t 
 and I never shall! She is good and noble, it is true; 
 but why should that fact spoil both your life and 
 mine ? I do not love her, so help me Heaven, I never 
 have. 
 
 ; “But she is your promised wife.” 
 
 “Through no fault of mine, I swear it! Listen, 
 (Carroll—” 
 
 “Please don’t! It is so useless—so unutterably use¬ 
 less. She loves you. She held your promise before 
 I had ever seen your face. That I should have stolen 
 your heart from her is the very greatest wrong that 
 1 could have committed; but I shall wrong her no 
 further. Oh! do you think I have not thought it all 
 out? Do you think that I have not suffered until 
 there is no heart left in my body to suffer more?” 
 Great God! Ten thousand deaths by slowest torture 
 could never equal the anguish that I have endured! 
 Do not make me suffer more than I have Ballard! 
 Say farewell to me, dear, and let me gol” . 
 
 “Never!” j 
 
 | '“Then I must go without.” 
 
 “I shall never let you!” 
 
 She held up her hand, and by the expression on her 
 face he knew that her resolve was deathless. 
 
 “You must!” she exclaimed, slowly. “My resolu¬ 
 tion is taken, and nothing can move nae. It is my 
 iluty, the atonement that I must ma ke for my sin. If 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 37 
 
 you would spare me, go on and do your duty to her. 
 It is the single demand that I make of you for your 
 part in the great wrong that has been done. If you 
 have any love in your heart for me you will do this 
 for my sake. It is the only thing in all this world that 
 can bring me the slightest happiness. You see, I feel 
 nothing. My heart is as dead as that face that lies be¬ 
 neath your brush upon the senseless canvas. It is an 
 eternal farwell, Ballard, and if you have any pity you 
 will try to have it for my sake !” 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 Who shall describe the hideousness of the death in 
 life that accompanies a broken heart? Surely not we 
 who have seen it so many times in this cruel old world 
 —seen it in the beamless eye, heard it in the changeless 
 sigh, felt it in the cold, emotionless tones of the once 
 jcjyous, care-free voice. 
 
 It was so with Carroll. 
 
 Do you think there was a moment in the day, an 
 hour in the long, bitter night when she could close her 
 heart to the knowledge of the frightful calamity that 
 had come into her life? Weeks wore into months 
 until three had fled; but still she bore it helplessly— 
 bore it with a shrinking sorrow that was piteous. 
 
 The letters of pleading that had come from Ballard 
 Hilliard had grown too painful for her to read, and 
 standing as she did in fear of her own courage, ir 
 face of an awful grief like hers—of a hideous secret 
 that weighed down her very soul, she dared not read 
 them longer, but put them aside with the seal un- 
 
38 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 broken. She did not try to conquer her love. On the 
 contrary, she lived upon the memory of it. 
 
 She avoided Miss Kingman for the first time within 
 her remembrance, making an excuse whenever she 
 knew that her old friend was coming to the house, 
 and as the weeks went by it seemed to her- mother 
 that this evident fear of one whom she had so loved 
 had become almost a mania. 
 
 “ Carroll,” she said to her one day, very gently, 
 when this avoidance had become a trifle more marked 
 than usual, “can you not see that you are giving pain 
 to the woman who has been the best friend we have 
 ever known? She wants very much that you should 
 come to see her. Why will you not?” 
 
 A spasm of pain contracted the changed but still 
 beautiful face. 
 
 “I cannot!” she cried, huskily. “Don’t ask it! I 
 can not!” 
 
 The sweet, sad-eyed woman laid aside her sewing, 
 and going to the side of her child knelt there, wind¬ 
 ing her arms about the girl’s waist. 
 
 “Dearest,” she said, gently, “what has changed you 
 so during the last few months? You are not like 
 yourself at all. Can you not trust your mother? I 
 have not spoken to you of it, hoping against hope that 
 you would come to me; but I have waited until I can 
 wait no longer. The silence is wearing me out. Hour 
 after hour I have lain awake at night, conscious of the 
 suffering you were enduring so silently, and it has 
 almost broken my heart that you would not let me 
 share it. Carroll, am I so little a part of your life that 
 you can not trust me with your grief? 
 
 The anguish of the girl’s eyes was startling. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 39 
 
 She endeavored to smile, but the effort was so palp¬ 
 able—so pitiable a failure—that it brought tears to the 
 eyes of the faithful mother. 
 
 “You are distressing yourself about nothing, dear¬ 
 est,” she answered, faintly. “You are seeing hobgob¬ 
 lins in dusk shadow's, that is all. You have been ill 
 for so long that it has affected you with a certain kind 
 of melancholia.” 
 
 “Do you think you can deceive me like that? Do 
 you think there is anything that you can conceal 
 from your mother ?” cried the unhappy woman, draw¬ 
 ing back from her. “Ah! child, it is something worse 
 than I first thought when you will try so weak a de¬ 
 ception as that. Carroll, what it is ?” 
 
 ( “Nothing!” 
 
 “And you think I will believe you? Do you think 
 I have suffered so little in my life that I can mistake 
 it in another? And most particularly when that 
 other is more to me than—almost more than my soul ? 
 Oh, Carroll, do you know how I love you ? Have you 
 ever considered how a mother adores her child ?” 
 
 A hysterical sob rose to the girl’s lips. With the 
 greatest difficulty she choked it back, and laughed 
 just a little wildly instead. 
 
 “Get up dearest,” she exclaimed, assisting lier 
 mother to a chair. “You are absolutely grow'ing 
 emotional, and all for nothing. Shall I tell you this 
 secret that you have been making such mountains of? 
 tWell, it is quite true that I have been afraid to tell 
 you, and knowing how easily alarmed our dear, Miss 
 Kingman, is, I have rather avoided her as well, for 
 lear she would upset you with her fears. I am not well 
 *—that it all. I have been feeling unwell all fall and 
 
40 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 perhaps I have not been quite myself, but I did not 
 think I had carried it so far as to make you think 
 all the things you have. It is absolutely amusing. 
 I have been too closely in-doors. Sewing does not 
 agree with me. You see, I have become a regular 
 nomad. Now put all your fears aside, for when I 
 have recovered from this bilious attack I shall be as 
 well as ever. Ha! ha! it is funny, is it not ? All this 
 emotionalism and breaking of hearts begins and ends 
 in a bilious attack. Curiously hard upon romance, is 
 it not? Come, dear let us talk of something more in¬ 
 teresting than my very prosaic health. What do you 
 think I heard to-day when I went to take Mrs. Lang¬ 
 ford's package home ?” 
 
 “What?” 
 
 “Dora has come home.” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “How dreadful!” 
 
 There was momentary pause. The swift color had 
 surged into Carroll's cheek; but Mrs. Millbourne did 
 not see it bending as she did above a piece of sewing. 
 
 “Why dreadful?” the girl asked, at last, in a voice 
 that was hollow and choked. 
 
 “Why? How can you ask? I wonder that she 
 ever had the courage after the terrible thing that she 
 had done.” 
 
 Another pause, then in a tone still more dense, still 
 more awful, if only the mother’s ears had been open 
 to hear it: 
 
 “She had—loved.” 
 
 “And—sinned!” 
 
 Again that frightful sob was rising in Carroll's 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 41 
 
 threat, but again she choked it back by a laugh so 
 hard, so cold, that Mrs. Melbourne shivered. 
 
 “It is horrible!” she said, dully. “Ah, dearest, we 
 can not understand love like that, can we? We come 
 of a race too cold, too proud. Suppose—suppose— 
 just to argue the case, you know—that you had ever 
 loved—'not wisely but too weir—and something—no 
 matter what—had separated you from the man who 
 had caused your shame, what would you have done?” 
 
 “Drowned myself!” answered the woman. 
 
 “What?” 
 
 “Drowned myself! Do you think that there is any¬ 
 thing in all this world that should tempt a chaste 
 woman to bring that degradation upon herself? Do 
 you think there is anything under God’s heavens that 
 would excuse her for bringing a shame like that upon 
 her family? If Laura Langford had been a child of 
 mine I would gladly have given her to the waves 
 rather than have the disgrace upon her that must ever 
 attach to a wifeless mother!” 
 
 For a moment a wild agony burned in Carroll’s 
 eyes. It seemed that concealment of her hideous suf¬ 
 fering was no longer possible; then she fell back in 
 her chair, pale almost exhausted under the strength 
 of her own anguish. It was frightful! She lifted 
 her sad eyes pleadingly to her mother’s face: she 
 opened her lips to speak, but the words died upon 
 them. She wrung her hands helplessly. There was 
 nothing that she could say—nothing—nothing! 
 
 “Now this is complete,” exclaimed Mrs. Melbourne 
 in her most business-like tone, “I am going to send 
 you with it at once. The walk will do you good. Put 
 on your hat while I put up the parcel.” 
 
42 
 
 A LIT/LE PRINCESS 
 
 With a step that staggered, Carroll rose to obey. 
 There was an anguish at her heart that cut like a 
 knife. She knew that her time had come—she knew, 
 that her day of grace was over. 
 
 She fastened on her hat, and turned to watch the 
 pale woman’s swift fingers as she tied the cord about, 
 the package. She knew that she was about to say to 
 her an eternal farwell, and perhaps that knowledge 
 was the bitterest one that had as yet come into her ‘ 
 suffering life. Still there was not a tear in her eye. - 
 “There it is!” exclaimed Mrs. Millbourne, brightly.' 
 “Now take it, and be sure you go to call upon Miss 
 Kingman before you return. You will do it, Car- 
 roll?” 
 
 “Yes she answered, in a tone that her mother re¬ 
 membered long afterward; “I will call there before 
 I return!” 
 
 She took the bundle, then, laying it upon the table, 
 placed her arms about her mother. 
 
 “Good-bye, dearest,” she said, hoarsely, the dry, 
 tearless gasp touching Mrs. Millbourne with quiver¬ 
 ing force—“good-bye, dearest! Have I pained you 
 of late. I was a good daughter to you once was I 
 not ?” | 
 
 “Carroll, what are you saying?” 
 
 “I should like to hear you say it, dearest. It will 
 be a comfort to me. I was a good daughter to you 
 once, was I not ?” ' 
 
 “You have always been a good daughter to me, my 
 darling.” Qj* 
 
 “Thank you for that so much—so much 1 Put your 
 arms about my neck in the old fond way and kiss me, 
 will you not? There is one thing about us, dearest, 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 43 
 
 that never can die, and that is memory. I remember 
 how you used to take me upon your knee and tell me 
 how great a part a little child formed in its mother's 
 life. You would never believe that there could come 
 a time in your life when— But what am I saying? 
 Kiss me, mother, as you kissed me then, and let me 
 go.” 
 
 “How strangely you act, Carroll!” 
 
 “Don’t think of it. I am ill and tired. Kiss me, 
 dearest, and say ‘God bless you/ as you did in those 
 old days that are dead beyond resurrection.” 
 
 “God bless you, my precious girl!” ' 
 
 And then the sob would be no longer repressed. It 
 struggled up and rent the air, so filled with agony 
 that Mrs. Melbourne cried out; but when she looked 
 there was a smile upon her daughter's face. 
 
 “Thank you, dearest!” she whispered. 
 
 There was one long kiss, and then, without a back¬ 
 ward glance, Carroll was gone—gone! Only God 
 knows the pity of it all! 
 
 And there was no word spoken to call her back! 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 * A swift, wind-swept snow was beginning to fall that 
 cut the face like a whip-lash. The wind whistled 
 about the exposed corners of adjacent buildings, some¬ 
 times wildly, at other times dismally, like a human 
 thing in distress. A terrible storm was breaking, 
 and co it Mrs. Millbourne listened in dismay. 
 
 More than once she went to the window and, lift- 
 
m 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 ing it, looked down into the dark street where the few 
 pedestrians were hurrying and scurrying in anxiety 
 to reach the shelter of home, however poor a one it 
 might be; but the great height made her dizzy, and 
 the wind cut her until she drew back with an irrepres¬ 
 sible shudder. 
 
 She glanced at the tiny clock upon the little marAel-| 
 shelf. - { 
 
 “Nine o’clock!” she said aloud, shivering as her 
 yoice broke the intense silence of the room. “Nine 
 o’clock and Carroll gone since five! What can it 
 mean? I might think she had remained with Miss 
 Kingman, but they would have sent me a message 
 surely, knowing how great my anxiety would be. 
 Kark!” 
 
 i She listened intently, but the light footfall that had 
 attracted her attention passed the door and turned 
 down the hall. 
 
 She sighed wearily, and sinking down in a chair 
 allowed a slow tear to trickle down her pallid cheek. 
 
 She seemed to lose herself in a bitter reverie for 
 some time, during which the storm increased in viol¬ 
 ence. The flakes of snow and ice were hurled against 
 the window-panes with the fury of a hurricane, and 
 a gust of peculiar violence seemed to shake the tene-' 
 ment to its very foundation. 
 
 Mrs. Millbourne started up, clasping her hands in 
 an agony of terror. 
 
 “Ten o’clock!” she cried, wildly, “and Carroll still 
 not here—still no message from her! I can bear it no 
 longer. What shall I do? I will go to Miss King- 
 man. If she is not there—” 
 
 The poor woman seemed incapable of completing 
 
A LITTLE TRINCESS 
 
 45 
 
 the thought. Her pale lips were set in a rigid line, 
 her haggard eyes contained a desperation that was 
 .utterly foreign to their usual placidity. { 
 
 For a moment she paused to listen to the wild rag¬ 
 ing of the storm, then seeming to realize without the 
 power of deduction that either bonnet or umbrella 
 , would be worse than useless, she wound a shawl about 
 her head, and shoulders and hurried down the long 
 [ ^flights of stairs to the street. ft 
 
 | A great gust of wind and sleet tore at her face like 
 the claws of some fierce animal; but if she felt it she 
 paid no heed. ) 
 
 The streets were deserted save for an occasional 
 truck which staggered through the storm; yet that 
 hideous presentiment of impending evil to her dar¬ 
 ling lent strength to the weary, flagging steps of the 
 wretched woman. v 
 
 , She turned into a cross street, the wind and sleet 
 seeming to gain new ascendency. More than once she 
 {fell prostrate upon her face; but with difficulty she 
 scrambled to her feet again and tottered on. The 
 snow, freezing as it fell and swept by the wind, still 
 Cut her cruelly. Occasionally she was forced to 
 clutch at an iron railing to prevent herself from fall- 
 |ing, her fingers torn and bleeding as they left their 
 fcold support. f 
 
 I Not once, under all the difficulties by which she was 
 S surrounded, was she tempted to turn back. Her heart 
 seemed so cold and sick under the awful fear that 
 oppressed her that she thought of nothing but to reach 
 the home of her one friend. She dared not analyze 
 her own fears but with bent head and tottering steps 
 ibe staggered ©n. 
 
A LITTLE TRINCESS 
 
 46 
 
 She reached Broadway at last faint, almost ex¬ 
 hausted, and supporting herself by one of the street 
 lamps until a car drawn by fagged and jaded horses 
 came up. She hailed it and got in. 
 
 There were a few passengers, but those that were 
 within she scarcely saw. Her ghastly face may have 
 attracted them, but she was only one more of those 
 poor unfortunates whom we pass daily—almost hourly; 
 •—in our wandering, so common that we even forget 
 to pity. ! 
 
 ( Her wild eyes were fixed ever upon the street, 2 
 shiver passing over her occassionally as a renewed 
 burst of wind spoke of the increase of the storm. Then 
 at last she signaled to the conductor and left the car. 
 
 The wind carried her almost off her feet; but she 
 drew her shawl more closely and went onward. 5 
 
 Only a little way now. The lights from the houses 
 of fashion flickered into the streets, an occasional 
 note of music was heard above the voice of the storm; 
 but Millicent Melbourne was deaf to sound. Once 
 Or twice she paused and peered through the shadowy 
 light at the numbers upon the houses, then going on¬ 
 ward as rapidly as the storm and her own weariness 
 Would permit, she counted the houses. 
 
 1 “It is here!” she moaned at last. “God grant that 
 I may find her safe!” 
 
 She paused for a moment as if her frail strength 
 bad deserted her, then by a supreme effort, beaten 
 back as she was at every step by the fierceness of the 
 storm, she mounted the stoop and pulled violently at 
 the bell. 
 
 Protected somewhat from the storm she Yeaned 
 fgainst the inner door, fighting back the faintness that 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 43 
 
 sfie felt was overcoming her. Then she became con¬ 
 scious that a stream of light from the hall had fallen 
 over her. By a supreme effort she drew herself up 
 and turned to the servant; but everything grew dark 
 before her. She staggered, and, throwing out hei 
 hand, caught the man’s arm. 
 
 4 "Miss Kingman!” she gasped. "Quick! I must sejr 
 
 m her!” 
 
 f Acquainted as he was with the numerous charities 
 of his mistress, the man did not hesitate, but drew th$ 
 dripping creature inside the elegant hall. 
 
 "Wait here,” he said to her, "and I will speak to 
 Miss Kingman.” 
 
 But Millicent Millbourne had already stood all that 
 her frail constitution could endure. Blindly she 
 groped her way after him, and as he lifted the portiere. 
 of the drawing-room she pushed by him. 
 
 As one recognizes a shadow, she saw Geraldine 
 Kingman rise and come toward her. 
 
 "Where is she?” gasped the miserable mother* 
 already conscious of how little hope she had had fro* 1 
 the beginning. "Is Carroll here?” 
 
 < "Carroll?” 
 
 *j "Yes. For God’s sake, speak quick!” 
 
 v "She is not here—has not been here. OK Mm, 
 Millbourne what has happened ?” 
 
 But there was no answer. The white-faced figm^ 
 swayed for a moment, then fell headlong into the arms 
 of the young man who was Geraldine Kingman’s 
 guest. 
 
 He was scarcely less pale than she. With set lips 
 and a wild burning in the eyes which spoke more 
 plainly than words of his creat anxiety, he lifted the 
 
43 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 frail form in his arms, all wet and dripping as she was, 
 and carried her to a sofa in the library. He lowered 
 her head, and while Geraldine Kingman watched in 
 silent surprise, he restored his patient to conscious¬ 
 ness. 
 
 When the great blue eyes opened once again Miss' 
 Kingman caught his arm. 
 
 “Thomas will carry her to my boudoir, Ballard,” j? 
 she exclaimed, “and my maid will—” 
 
 But Ballard Hilliard shook his head. ^ 
 
 “Wait!” he said, in a tone she had never heard him 
 use before. “We must know first what has brought 
 her here at this hour and upon a night like this.” 
 
 Already Millicent Millbourne had struggled to a sit¬ 
 ting posture, and was gazing from one to the other 
 in wildest dismay. Very gently Ballard Hilliard took 
 her hands in his, and controlling his own emotion as 
 best he could, said almost tenderly: 
 
 “Try to calm yourself, madame, and tell us what 
 has happened. Remember that you are with friends 
 who will go to any length to assist you. It is of Miss 
 Carroll Millbourne that you were speaking, is it not ?” 
 
 “Yes, yes,” she answered, hoarsely, “my daughter. 
 She left me at five o’clock to return a piece of work. 
 She said that she would call here before her return* 
 At ten she had not come.” 
 
 Ballard Hilliard’s face grew still more grave. 
 
 “Perhaps—” he began, but she interrupted him. 
 
 “It may seem foolish to be so frightened,” she cried* 
 miserably, “but her manner at leaving me was so 
 strange, so very strange. Oh, my God! my God! 
 Why did I not think then and keep her with me?” 
 
 “Odaa yourself, dear madame,” exclaimed Hilliard* 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 49 
 
 with great difficulty maintaining his own self-control. 
 “Remember your daughter’s fate may depend upon it. 
 Tell me as nearly as you can all that occurred. Keep 
 back nothing, for upon a small detail everything may 
 depend.” 
 
 ' And then followed a minute account of that after¬ 
 noon. A spasm of pain had settled upon Ballard Hill¬ 
 iard’s features. He appeared gray and old, but not a 
 word escaped his lips as that wretched mother re¬ 
 peated the last sentence that she had heard fall from 
 her daughter’s lips—a sentence that was engraved up¬ 
 on her heart forever. 
 
 “Kiss me, dearest, and say 'God bless you/ as you 
 did in those old days that are dead beyond resurrec¬ 
 tion.” 
 
 And then Mrs. Millbourne described that sob that 
 had filled even the air with agony. 
 
 “What did you say was the number of the house 
 where she went to return the sewing?” asked Hill¬ 
 iard so hoarsely that neither of them would have re¬ 
 cognized his voice. 
 
 It was given again. 
 
 “Remain here until my return,” he cried, unable to 
 repress some slight expression of his absorbing an¬ 
 guish. “When I return I will bring news of her. Yon 
 can do nothing. Leave everything to me, and I will 
 find her as surely as Heaven is above us.” 
 
 He strode from the room without a glance in the 
 direction of his fiancee, forgetful even of her exist¬ 
 ence, unconscious that she stood beside him as he 
 paused upon the stoop to button his great-coat 
 him before plunging into the storm. 
 
so 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 r (With hat drawn down closely over his eyes and 
 Coat buttoned about his throat, Ballard Hilliard faced 
 the fiercest storm that New York had known in years, 
 f Yet he scarcely seemed to feel it. The gale that 
 would have made progress almost impossible for an-* 
 other seemed to comfort his raging spirit. The cut- f 
 ting of the wind across his face, strange as it may; 
 seem, was almost refreshing. He was well-nigh 
 crazed under his awful anxiety for the girl whom he 
 loved better than he did his life, and but for his fear 
 for her safety, the storm would have been a positive 
 relief to his suffering. 
 
 He strode on with bent head, unconscious of the 
 tremendous effort he was making to keep his feet, 
 blinded by the sleet and snow that blew in gusts into 
 his eyes, yet walking with comparative rapidity, led 
 by intuition rather than any connected reason. He 
 seemed stunned by the fear that paralyzed his heart. 
 
 There was not a cab to be seen, and no line of cars 
 that led to the address that Mrs. Millbourne had 
 given; but the distance was not great, and it was with 
 something like a revival of hope that he paused be¬ 
 fore the house that she had indicated, to make sure of 
 the number,, then staggered up the stoop and rang 
 the bell. 
 
 It was then for the first time that he realized that 
 lie was almost frozen. His stiff fingers nearly refused 
 when called upon to fasten themselves about the bell- 
 knob, his mustache was frozen in a straight icicle 
 across his mouth, and when the flood of light from 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 5E 
 
 the hall fell upon him as the door was opened by the 
 servant, he could scarcely control his tongue suffi¬ 
 ciently to ask his question: “Is Mrs. Lahraen at 
 home ?” -*.f 
 
 • .The servant stared in some surprise that any one 
 should call at that hour and in a storm so violent,'but' 
 
 ! seeing that it was a gentleman who had addressed her, 
 
 ' she answered: 
 
 • ‘‘Yes, sir, I think so. Will you walk in?” 
 
 : Grateful for the warmth that was offered, and 
 
 Scarcely able to control his anxiety, he stepped inside, 
 allowed the girl to close the door, then stationed him¬ 
 self near the radiator in the hall. 
 
 ■j “I will wait here,” he said to the maid. “I am too 
 Wet to go into the drawing-room. Say to Mrs. LaK- 
 men that I will not detain her a moment.” 
 f The girl departed upon her errand, and shortly 
 after, a lady descended the stairs. Hilliard had some¬ 
 what recovered from the terrible chill, and with hat 
 in hand went forward to meet her. 
 
 “I must apologize for intruding upon you at this 
 hour, Mrs. Lahmen,” he said, in his accustomed high- 
 
 • bred way that no one ever by chance mistook: “but 
 i I am very anxious about a young lady who is thought 
 : to have come to your house upon an errand this after- 
 
 ■ noon, and who has not as yet returned home. I re¬ 
 fer to Miss Carroll Millbourne. Is she here ?” 
 
 “Carroll Millbourne? Oh, no! She was here a 
 little after five o’clock, but left before the breaking of 
 the storm. She certainly had ample time to have 
 reached home long before it began to snow.” 
 
 A faintness seized upon Ballard Hilliard. He stag¬ 
 gered against the wall, his face ghastly in its set pallor. 
 
52 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 For a moment it seemed that he had utterly lost cogh 
 trol of himself. Mrs. Lahmen turned hurriedly to her 
 servant. 
 
 “Tell Thomas to bring some brandy at once, and 
 get a chair for this gentleman,” she exclaimed. 
 
 Hilliard received the chair gratefully, in a measure 
 recovering himself, and smiled at Mrs. Lahmen in a 
 way that touched her heart. 
 
 “I am sorry to trouble you,” he said, as quietly as 
 he could force his shaking voice to speak; “but my 
 fear for Miss Melbourne almost overcame me for 
 the moment. I have quite recovered from the weak¬ 
 ness now. I can’t describe the storm to you. It is 
 frightful, and she has not reached home. Will you 
 tell me what you can of her call here ?” 
 
 “There seems to be so little to tell,” answered the 
 lady, hesitatingly; “yet now that you recall it all to 
 me, I remember that there was something most pecu¬ 
 liar in Miss Melbourne's manner. She refused to 
 receive the money that was due her mother for the 
 work that she had done, but begged me to send it to 
 her to-morrow morning. I recall that there was a 
 most peculiar expression upon her face when she 
 made the request, but naturally, not being particularly 
 well acquainted with her, I asked no questions. And 
 now that you have brought it to my memory with 
 your interrogation, there was one point that attracted 
 my attention. The nurse was coming in with baby at 
 the time that Miss Melbourne was leaving. She took 
 the child from nurse’s arms, kissed her passionately, 
 laid her back, and hurried from the room.” 
 
 But the latter remembrance seemed not to affect 
 (Billiard an tiic {tortxuxr kad «kaie, ht<i. kwrr perfectly 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 53 
 
 well that the Millbournes were not in such affluent 
 circumstances that they could refuse to receive money 
 that was rightly their due, and the fact struck him 
 with peculiar significance. 
 
 He took the glass of brandy that the servant had 
 brought, and swallowed it as if the fiery liquid had 
 been water; then he arose. He did not care to com¬ 
 municate his fears to this woman; but in a voice that 
 was unrecognizably hoarse, he asked; 
 
 “Is that all?” 
 
 “I think so.” 
 
 “She said nothing about where she was going from 
 here ?” 
 
 “Nothing.” 
 
 “I thank you very much for your kindness, and, 
 wish you good-evening.” 
 
 “You are quite welcome to the little I have been 
 able to tell you; but I should like for you to let me 
 know 7 when Miss Millbourne is safe. There is some¬ 
 thing in the extraordinary beauty of the child that 
 seems to attract every one to her, and I shall feel 
 anxious until I know 7 that she is with her friends 
 again.” 
 
 Some irrepressible impulse caused Ballard Hill¬ 
 iard to put out his hand and grasp that of the woman 
 beside him. He felt her sympathy for the girl he 
 loved, in the tone of her kind voice, and it touched 
 him deeply. 
 
 “Thank you,” he said, simply. “I shall do so.” 
 
 And then Mrs. Lahmen held the door open for him 
 until he had once more faced the storm, but now 
 without that hope that had buoyed him up during +he 
 walk there. 
 
54 
 
 A LITTLE FRINCESS 
 
 His heart was torn with all kinds of fears. What 
 had happened to Carroll? .Why had she left her 
 home in that strange way? What had caused the 
 significant conversation with her mother? 
 
 And then the horrible fear came over him that she 
 had killed herself. He turned giddy and held to the 
 railing for support, but he put the thought from him 
 with a savage force that seemed to impart strength. 
 He recovered himself and went doggedly on. 
 
 The storm was still in the fiercest of its struggle, 
 but he pressed onward with a resolution that would 
 have carried him through a greater difficulty. 
 
 He went to the nearest police station and had the 
 alarm sent out; then he realized, with a sinking of 
 the heart, that he had done all he could do. 
 
 Yet how was he to face that wretched mother 
 again, believing as he did that he was the cause of her 
 daughter’s strange disappearance, and with nothing 
 to tell but that her worst fears were realized— 
 that there was nothing to tell, that Carroll’s fate was 
 as much in darkness as ever? 
 
 He groaned audibly. His own heart seemed break¬ 
 ing under the greatness of his grief, yet his first 
 thought was of that miserable mother whom he had 
 worse than robbed of more than her life. How he 
 cursed himself and his own mad folly that had plunged 
 them all in that bitter misery! Yet it was too late to 
 recall it. The act was in that dead past that even the 
 power of God can not erase. 
 
 If he could have died out there in the storm ramcr 
 than go back and face those two women, both of whom 
 he had so cruelly wronged, it would have been a 
 happier fate; but there was little cowardice in the 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 5S 
 
 nature of Ballard Hilliard. He returned to them* 
 and he went as quickly as the storm would allow. i 
 
 But it was a terrible struggle. Chilled as he aK 
 (ready was to the very marrow of his bones, wear y 
 and heart-sore, faint from the sickening fear upon 
 him, thinking at every step how impossible it was 
 for a frail thing like Carroll to live through such $ 
 storm, the walk was a terrible one. *. \ 
 
 Having arrived at the house, he pulled the bell 
 'feebly, but not so feebly but that it was heard by the 
 two anxious women within. 
 
 Miss Kingman herself it was who answered the 
 summons. She seized him by the arm and almost 
 dragged him into the house. Neither seemed capa-< 
 ble of putting the question that was spoken by both 1 
 pairs of anxious, suffering eyes; but Hilliard did not 
 even see his fiancee. He was looking at the mother) 
 of the girl whom he had so madly loved, thinking of 
 the terrible blow that he must inflict. He pushed 
 Geraldine Kingman from him without a glance in her, 
 direction, and going to Mrs. Millbourne, he took both 
 her hands in his. 
 
 “You must not despair,” he said, hoarsely, trying 
 to infuse his voice with a courage he was far from 
 feeling and failing piteously. “I have not found 
 her, but I swear to you that, living or dead, she shall 
 be! I swear to you that, if your child is still upon 
 this earth, she shall be restored to you! Try to trust 
 me, if you can, as you would trust your own son.” 
 
 But the last words were uttered to deaf ears, for 
 Mrs. Millbourne was lying silently upon the floor, 
 with upturned, unconscious face, 
 v There was an expression of bewilderment and 
 
56 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 horror upon Miss Kingman’s face that was not trans¬ 
 latable ; but Hilliard was blind to all that. She watched 
 him, half stunned, as for the second time he lifted the 
 stiil body in his stiff, numb arms. 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 When Carroll left the residence of Mrs. Lahmen 
 she paused at the foot of the stoop, half bewildered 
 under the uncertainty and terror that were upon her. 
 
 The act of leaving home was no suddenly conceived 
 notion with her. She had known for some time 
 that it must be done sooner or later to save herself 
 from the shame that she had brought upon herself 
 and her mother; but, like all women, she had hoped 
 against hope for that interposition of Providence 
 that never comes. But it was almost with the sud¬ 
 denness of a blow that she realized that the time had 
 come when her departure could be in safety postponed 
 no longer. 
 
 Yet as much as she had thought of the subject in 
 the silence and darkness of her own chamber, she 
 had arrived at no conclusion as to what she should 
 do. 
 
 She must go away. That seemed to be the only 
 definite idea that she possessed, and it had so com¬ 
 pletely prostrated her mentally that she had been able 
 to think out no plan by which she could aid herself. 
 
 “What am I to do?” she asked of herself, helplessly, 
 as she stood there under the threatening sky. “Shall 
 I take her advice and drown my misery and my shame 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 5Z 
 
 together? God help me, I can not—I can not! I 
 have not the right. If it were but my worthless life 
 alone—but, no; it can not be! I must live for the sake 
 of— Thou, God, who had pity upon the Magdalene, 
 have mercy upon me!” 
 
 | She turned away aimlessly and walked onward with 
 (bent head, unconscious of the direction she was taking, 
 |too much stunned by the awfulness of her position to 
 4 be able to think or plan even remotely for her future*, 
 
 The storm had not broken, but the wind was blow^ 
 ing heavily—a fierce, biting gale that cut her like a 
 knife—but she did not pause to consider it. She was 
 leaving forever everything that life had ever held 
 dear to her—her mother, her friend, her lover! There 
 was nothing left—nothing! Death would have beeU 
 so easy to her, and yet she dared not consider that. 
 
 She was in the teeth of a hideous agony, driven by 
 the most cruel fate that ever scourged an innocent 
 and helpless girl. 
 
 And after all, the fault was not hers, but an error 
 of that great mastering passion, Love, that is God- 
 given. 
 
 She was too wearily miserable to consider the hor¬ 
 rible uncertainty, the frightful dangers of the unknown 
 life into which she was going; but with semi-uncon¬ 
 sciousness she went onward. She was recalled to a 
 knowledge of her surroundings by the bustle and con¬ 
 fusion around her—the crossing of street-cars, the 
 hurrying of men and women—and looking about her 
 almost for the first time, she realized that she was in 
 front of the Grand Central Depot. 
 
 She paused and tried to collect her wits. She hhi 
 saved a little money from the pittance she had 
 
58 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 enabled to earn, knowing that this day was at handj 
 and almost without taking time for a second of re¬ 
 flection, she followed the people who were entering 
 the station. 
 
 There was a girl just in front of her—a girl about 
 her own age and size—a girl that was not unlike her 
 as to her back and hair—and as she followed, a desire 
 to see the face of this traveler, who was also alone, 
 possessed her. She quickened her steps. The face 
 was not pretty, but there wa$ an expression of such 
 sorrow in it that Carroll felt herself instinctively 
 drawn to the stranger. She walked directly behind 
 her to the window of the ticket-office. 
 
 In a soft voice that spoke of considerable refine¬ 
 ment, the stranger asked for a ticket for Albany, and 
 following her example, Carroll opened her well-worn 
 purse and repeated the request. The girl turned and 
 glanced at her fellow-traveler. The same magnetism 
 that had attracted Carroll seemed to reach to her, for 
 as she met the girl's eye a smile passed over her plain, 
 pale face. 
 
 Carroll smiled in return. Is it singular that suffer¬ 
 ing recognizes its companion? There are stranger 
 fatalities in this curious old world of ours. 
 
 Margaret Denning stopped when she has passed the 
 ticket-office, and watched until Carroll had received 
 her change. 
 
 “Are you going to Albany?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “Are you alone?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “Shall v/e not go together, then? Traveling alons 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 59 
 
 h not nearly so pleasant as when one has an agree¬ 
 able companion.” 
 
 “Perhaps I shall not prove very agreeable, in so 
 far as being entertaining goes, but I shall be very; 
 glad of your society,” answered Carroll, thankful 
 that something was to interrupt the misery of her. 
 own reflections. 
 
 The two walked on together and took their seats 
 in the train. 
 
 “Do you live in Albany?” asked Miss Denning, 
 With a smile that was most winning. 
 
 “No; I have never been there in my life. Do you 
 know the city?” 
 
 “Not at all. The fact is that I am sadly afraid I 
 am going upon a fool's errand. My mother died 
 three years ago, leaving me all alone in the world. 
 She had one sister, whose address she did not know; 
 but they had loved each other very dearly in their 
 girlhood, and my mother made me promise that if 
 ever I heard of her I would go to see her, and, if 
 welcome, remain under her care. I heard last week 
 that she was living in Albany, though I am as yet 
 uncertain of the address. The consequence is that I 
 : have not written, but am going there hoping that I may 
 -find her. It is a terrible struggle for a girl to live ‘a 
 this world alone.” 
 
 * Carroll shivered. 
 
 “It must be,” she said, drearily. 
 
 “Are you going to friends?” asked the girl, kindly. 
 
 “No; I have none. I am going to make my own 
 way in the world.” 
 
 Miss Denning looked at her sharply; but seeing the 
 whitened pain and misery in the young face, she swab 
 
UO A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 lowed the words that were upon her lips, and said 
 instead: 
 
 “You are very pretty—cruelly pretty. It will be 
 Worse for you than it has been for me. God pity you!”. 
 
 There was a long silence between them, during 
 Which each seemed busy with her own most painful 
 reflections. The train was running swiftly. The 
 darkness had come suddenly, and the wind was whist¬ 
 ling with peculiar fierceness. Several times the brake- 
 man came into the car and filled the already crimson 
 Stove with coals, for the night was one of intense cold¬ 
 ness. The storm was coming, and many persons, 
 with their hands shading their eyes, peered into the 
 darkness without through the windows, shivering as 
 they realized the strength of the hurricane. 
 
 Then great flakes of snow spattered against the glass 
 —-snow that froze tightly as it fell. 
 
 “It is a wild night without,” a hoarse voice at the 
 end of the car said aloud. “I don't remember to 
 have seen a storm like this in twenty years.” 
 
 There was silence again, and the people shuddered. 
 
 Still the train moved rapidly, the shrill scream of 
 the locomotive, heard occasionally above the voice of 
 the wind, sounding like some human thing gasping 
 for help. The passengers huddled together, as if some 
 premonition of impending danger hung over them and 
 there was hope of courage in their proximity to each 
 other. 
 
 “It is frightful!” whispered Carroll to her new 
 friend, drawing a trifle closer to her. “Are not you 
 afraid?” 
 
 Miss Denning laughed softly. 
 
 “No!” she answered. “There is something grand 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 611 
 
 lo me in a superb storm like this, I am a fatalist, on 
 perhaps I should say, a believer in predestination* 
 God knows best, and I am willing to leave my life itt 
 His hands. No; I am not afraid.” ^ 
 
 The quietness of the tone seemed to calm Carroll, 
 for she sat for some moments forgetful of her own 
 suffering in listening to the wildness of the wind as 
 swept madly about the car. ~j 
 
 “It is cold, don't you think?” asked Miss Denning, 
 after another long pause. 
 
 .“Rather,” 
 
 “Let us go closer to the stove.” 
 
 “But in the event of an accident—” 
 
 “Nonsense! Why should there be one to-nightl 
 fciore than any other night ?” 
 
 “I don't know, but—” 
 
 “You are nervous. Don’t be foolish.” 
 
 “I am afraid I can’t help it.” 
 
 “Do you think if God intended that you should die 
 He would save you because you happen to be sitting 
 in this seat instead of over there? Come!” 
 
 She arose, and smiling down upon Carroll with! 
 that same fascinating smile that she had seen upon the 
 plain features once before, held out her hand. Car- 
 roll arose at once. ! 
 
 There was an anxious expression upon her face, 
 a fear that had driven out misery shone upon her 
 countenance. 
 
 The train had slowed up for some reason, and al¬ 
 most every face in the car was shaded as the passen¬ 
 gers peered from the windows. 
 
 “Looks like a bridge,” said some one as Carroll was 
 passing. 
 
62 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Miss Denning had already reached her seat and 
 had taken the One -next the window, making room fot! 
 Carroll beside her. There was a sudden lurch of the 
 car that threw Carroll backward before she had 
 reached it. She caught upon one of the seats and 
 saved herself from falling, but before she could re¬ 
 cover her balance there was a fierce howl of the wind 
 more terrible than all the rest. For a moment the 
 moving train seemed to quiver, then—God knows 
 what happened. 
 
 There was a shriek from a thousand throats—* 
 and silence! 
 
 Chapter X. 
 
 Computed in minutes, perhaps that hideous silence 
 continued scarcely two, but to those miserable beings, 
 paralyzed with fright, lying there stricken, wounded, 
 dying in the debris , it seemed ages; but it is curious 
 how quickly the human mind will recover from a 
 shock, no matter how stunning in its effect. 
 
 It was from a trestle-work that crossed a deep 
 ravine that the train had been blown, and there at the 
 bottom the cars were smashed in pieces, some lying 
 across each other, others stretched out stark and 
 stiff like huge dead animals, but all telling their own 
 story of death and destruction. 1 , 
 
 As soon as they had realized what had happened, 
 those who had escaped unhurt began to pull them¬ 
 selves from the broken timbers that had fallen upon 
 and pinioned them. Then began the groans and curses 
 
~ ' A LITTLE PRINCESS 63 
 
 Irons the men, shrieks from the women, and piteous 
 pries from children that makes a scene like that give 
 a man such as Dante, a conception of Inferno. 
 i But for all their oaths and blasphemy, the men 
 [worked like Trojans. Twenty had, perhaps, made 
 their escape from the ruins and were engaged in the 
 charitable work of assisting others, when suddenly 
 there was a cry of horror from every lip, and for a 
 single second the hands that answered the will o£ 
 sympathetic hearts were stopped under the wild feat 
 that took possession of them. 
 
 “Fire! The cars are on fire!” 
 
 !; It was but too true. The overturned stoves had be¬ 
 gun to do their deadly work, and the flames, fanned 
 to fury by the terrible gale, leaped higher and higher, 
 licking about in every direction in search of fresh 
 fuel for its hideous work. 
 
 The red glare and crackling of the flames, the fierce 
 roar of the wind, the groans and cries of the doomed 
 [wretches, completed a scene that could only be sur¬ 
 passed in horror by the very center of Hades. 
 
 But the terrors of the situation only seemed to 
 lend new strength to that noble little band of rescuers, 
 and they worked with the energy born of despair. A! 
 lew more workers were added to their number, men 
 who had been released from some object which had 
 held them prisoners, and, forgetful of their own cuts 
 and bruises, they tugged at heavy objects that con¬ 
 fined their fellow-sufferers, their faces blackened with 
 smoke, their willing hands blistered with the flames J 
 but still they paused not. 
 
 ^ How readily we can understand, under circum- 
 
64 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 stances like these, that noble, generous man was 
 created in the likeness of God. 
 
 Person after person was taken from the burning 
 ;wreck and laid upon the ground under the pouring 
 sleet and snow. There was no time to ascertain 
 whether they were living or dead, for there were 
 ethers to be saved. Overcoats were thrown over the 
 Women until the supply was exhausted, and the others 
 were forced to take their chances with the uncon¬ 
 scious men. 
 
 It was a night to be remembered through all ages, 
 > It is singular with what wonderful rapidity bad 
 news flies, sometimes apparently without any means 
 cf transportation whatever. No one knew how they; 
 heard the news, but very soon lanterns were seen to 
 flicker through the pitchy darkness. There were 
 hasty orders given by the recruits, and the work went 
 on with renewed energy. 
 
 But there was no time to be lost. The flames were 
 gaining! But a few more bodies, dead or alive, could 
 be rescued, and then the effort must be abandoned. 
 
 A noble man with eyebrows and lashes burned 
 from his face was making a heroic endeavor to ex¬ 
 tricate a body from under one of the burning seats 
 that held it firmly. His hands were blistered, but he 
 would not yield to pain, and with an effort born of 
 fury he tore the broken seat aside and lifted the small 
 form in his arms. 
 
 “Poor child!” he muttered. “I did my best, but 
 it is too late. I wonder what mother will weep for 
 her P 
 
 He laid her tenderly upon the ground and turned 
 tp sutvev the 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 65 
 
 There was nothing more that could be done. Human 
 aid was powerless. 
 
 The dark, motionless figures of the men stood there 
 ■for a moment surveying the ruins under the still glar¬ 
 ing light of the fire, then wearily turned to their self- 
 imposed charges. 
 
 i “What are we to do with these people?” some one 
 asked, in stentorian tones, the uncanny sound of the 
 voice, making every one shiver. “Is there any one 
 here who knows the country?” 
 
 “My house is just up the hill,” answered a man 
 whose face no one could see. “It is large, and at 
 the service of the people, if we can manage to get 
 them there.” 
 
 But there was no question of “if” with those great¬ 
 hearted men. They set to work with a will to im¬ 
 provise stretchers, and some with them, others carry¬ 
 ing their heavy burdens in their arms, they followed 
 the faint flicker of a lantern, and staggered up the 
 hill to the handsome house at the top. 
 
 The doors were thrown open, and with surprising 
 rapidity the house was converted into a temporary; 
 hospital as well as morgue. 
 
 The beds were utilized for those who were most 
 hurt until the supply was exhausted, the dead were 
 placed upon chairs or upon the floor, and the wreck 
 in the ravine left to itself until the light c £ morning 
 would allow the men to finish their work for the dead. 
 
 The women of the household, as well as those who 
 had escaped comparatively unhurt from the accident, 
 worked with a will under the direction of three phy¬ 
 sicians who were upon the train, and what service 
 
60 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 human aid could give was rendered to these suffering 
 beings. 
 
 One of the ladies of the house bent with a physician 
 over a tiny, childish body that lay upon a couch. 
 
 “Do you think she is dead, doctor?” she asked, 
 glancing into his anxious, puzzled face. 
 
 “No,” he answered; “she is not dead, but it is im¬ 
 possible to tell just yet how badly hurt she is.” 
 
 “I am glad she is not dead, at all events. She is 
 so beautiful! It would be a terrible blow to her 
 mother.” 
 
 “And to her husband, perhaps.” 
 
 “Her husband?” 
 
 “Yes; she is married, I think. Will you examine 
 her while ! am waiting upon the others, and see if 
 there is anything by which she can be identified ?” 
 
 As Mrs. Jeffers bent over the white face upon the 
 sofa pillow she fancied she saw a crimson glow in 
 the cheeks. A moment later she was convinced that 
 she was not mistaken, for the great eyes were opened 
 and fixed upon her. 
 
 There was a minute of bewilderment, then the 
 little figure sat up. 
 
 “I remember now,” she said, piteously, passing 
 her hand across her eyes. “It was an accident to 
 the train, was it not?” 
 
 “Yes,” answered Mrs. Jeffers, tenderly. “Are you 
 much hurt? What seems to be the matter with you?” 
 
 ‘‘Nothing. I am dazed, that is ail. Was any one 
 hurt?” 
 
 “It was frightful! But you must not ask me any 
 questions now. Lie down. You are very weak and 
 white, and may not be so well as you think. To- 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 671 
 
 tfi orrow you shall know everything that I can tell 
 you.” 
 
 “But there is no reason why I should not know now. 
 I am not hurt.” 
 
 “There are numbers killed outright. You are very 
 fortunate to have escaped with your life. But now 
 will you not tell me your name and where we can 
 telegraph to your friends? You know the news of 
 the disaster will be in the papers to-morrow, and your 
 family will be anxious concerning you unless they 
 know that you are quite safe.” 
 
 A crimson glow again covered the girl’s face. 
 
 “There is no one to whom you could telegraph,” 
 she answered, huskily. 
 
 “Not your husband?” 
 
 There was momentary hesitation upon the part of 
 the girl then with downcast eyes she answered, 
 faintly: 
 
 “He is dead.” 
 
 “Poor child—poor little helpless thing! You are 
 very young for that.” 
 
 The sad eyes that were lifted to the woman's face 
 filled with tears. There was an instant of hesitation, 
 then Mrs. Jeffers leaned over and kissed the sweet, 
 childish lips. 
 
 .• The girl arose immediately. 
 
 J “You see I am quite recovered,” she said, hurriedly, 
 “If there are others hurt, let me help you with them.” 
 
 And knowing that there were so few to do what 
 ;was required to be done, Mrs. Jeffers consented. 
 
 Together the two left the room and entered the 
 great drawing-room, which for the time had been 
 converted into a dead-house. 
 
68 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Near the door, upon two chairs, lay a girl, part of 
 her hair streaming across her face, which was burned 
 until absolutely unrecognizable. Her clothes had 
 been burned from the poor blistered body, which was 
 protected by a sheet thrown across it. 
 
 As Mrs. Jeffers with her companion entered the; 
 room, a few persons were standing beside the corpse , 1 
 one man with a pencil and paper in his hand, evi-- 
 dently the reporter for a paper. 
 
 Some one said in an undertone, as the two ladies 
 entered: 
 
 “That young lady can identify her. They were 
 traveling together.” 
 
 The young man turned. 
 
 For a moment the room swam before the eyes of 
 the girl. She knew that a question was being put 
 to her, but a giddiness that was almst unconsciousness 
 overcame her, and she staggered against the door. 
 She had realized in an instant what had happened, 
 and as the question was asked, her resolution was 
 taken. 
 
 “Can you tell us who this lady is?” 
 
 “Yes,” she answered, faintly. “Tier name is Car- 
 roll Melbourne. She is from New York.” 
 
 Chapter XI. 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 The audacity of her own falsehood left Carroll 
 Millbourne weak and trembling, leaning against the 
 wall for the support that her limbs refused her. 
 
 She had given that dead girl her name—that poor 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 69 
 
 creature of whose identity she was entirely unaware, 
 knowing that her friends would accept the statement 
 as correct, knowing that there was scarcely a chance 
 that she should be detected in the fraud, for the face 
 was burned beyond recognition, while not an atom of 
 her original clothing remained upon the poor charred 
 body. There was the hair left, to be sure, and the 
 stature remained the same; but she had before re¬ 
 marked how nearly like her own they were. She 
 knew, therefore that in so far as her mother and those 
 whom she had left behind were concerned, she would 
 be as dead when that lifeless body was sent them as 
 if it were in reality Carroll Melbourne who would 
 lie in the grave that they would prepare. 
 
 She Was not slow to recognize the deliverance that 
 God had sent, and while she deplored the necessity of 
 falsehood, she thanked Him for sending her away to 
 save herself a greater sin. 
 
 “Can you give me her address? r asked the reporter* 
 kindly. 
 
 It was given in faint, trembling tones; then some 
 one noticed how white she had grown under the emo¬ 
 tion that had overtaken her. An arm was thrown 
 about her and she was led from the room. 
 
 It was not until she was placed upon the same sofa 
 in the library upon which she had returned to con¬ 
 sciousness that Carroll raised her eyes to the face of 
 her companion; but naturally given to thinking quickly, 
 she had already reviewed the situation with singular 
 clearness. 
 
 The woman beside her was beyond the prime, but 
 the silver hair framed a countenance of peculiar 
 beauty, if of peculiar firmness. There was not a 
 
70 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 weak line in the aristocratic old face, unless tender* 
 ness and gentleness could be classed as weakness. 
 There was an expression of pride in the well-cut lips 
 that impressed Carroll even in her nervous condition, 
 but instinctively she felt that she could trust the lady 
 who held her hands so kindly. 
 
 “The little girl in the other room is your sister, is 
 she not ?” the woman asked. 
 
 “No, madame,” answered Carroll, endeavoring to 
 speak distinctly, though her voice trembled piteously. 
 “.We were no relation whatever.” 
 
 “You were close friends, then?” 
 
 “Not even that. I never saw her until yesterday. 
 { We were traveling together because we were going 
 to the same place to try to make our way in the world. 
 It was a venture with both of us, therefore we were 
 somewhat confidential.” 
 
 “You are going to fill some position, then?” 
 
 “I am going to try. I am afraid I am very ignor¬ 
 ant for anything of that sort ; but it seems to me that 
 there should always be something for willing hands 
 to do.” 
 
 “There is no definite position, then?” 
 
 “Oh, no. I am going to try to get work, that is all.”f 
 
 “But you are very young to be alone in the world 
 and dependent upon yourself.” 1 
 
 A wan smile made Carroll's face extremely beau¬ 
 tiful. 
 
 “I am not so young as I look. My youthful ap¬ 
 pearance has always been against me.” 
 
 “Not so much as your beauty will be in the life to 
 which you are going. What can you do ?” 
 
 “.Very little, I am afraid.” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 71 
 
 “You must pardon me for questioning you so 
 closely; but there may be something that I can do to 
 assist you, and in that event I should be very glad. 
 1 was on the same train with you last night, though 
 I don’t believe we were in the same car, and it 
 seems to me that it is a duty I owe to God for having 
 allowed me to escape that I should do something 
 for one of His creatures in return.” 
 
 “God has been doubly good to me in that He spared 
 my life and sent me you. I can not sufficiently thank 
 you, madame.” 
 
 “Don’t try yet, as I have done nothing for which 
 to be thanked; but let us go over a list of your ac¬ 
 complishments—sort of schedule, so to speak,” said 
 the lady, with a peculiarly winning smile. “You say 
 you must make your own living. Now what can you 
 do?” 
 
 A puzzled expression crossed Carroll’s face. 
 
 “I am very ignorant,” she said, helplessly. “Let 
 me see—I can sew fairly well, and— and—” 
 
 She paused and glanced into the woman’s face ap¬ 
 pealingly. 
 
 “Can you read aloud well?” 
 j “Tolerably well.” 
 
 “Can you sing?” 
 
 “I can sing, but can not play. We have always 
 been poor, and my voice is not cultivated, save in so 
 far as my father was able to teach me, and that was 
 very little.” 
 
 “Do you speak any of the languages?” 
 
 “French a little. My mother spoke it well, but she 
 was ill so much that she had small opportunity of 
 teaching me. I think I read it better than I sneak it;” 
 
72 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “That is good. What kind of a position did you 
 expect to fill when you reached your destination—that 
 is, for what should you have applied?” 
 
 A shade of bewilderment crossed Carroll's brow. 
 In truth, she had not thought at all; but she dared 
 not tell this practical woman that. With some em¬ 
 barrassment she answered: 
 
 “I suppose there would have been nothing for it 
 but to have gone to an employment agency and have 
 taken anything that was given me.” 
 
 The lady shook her head dubiously. 
 
 “A most uncertain dependence,” she said, quietly. 
 “How should you like to go home with me? It will 
 be very easy to try you and see in what way you can 
 be useful; then if the plan fails, neither you nor I will 
 be worse off than before.” 
 
 Carroll’s eyes filled with tears. 
 
 “I don’t know how I have deserved this kindness,” 
 she said, brokenly. 
 
 “Then you accept?” 
 
 “Most gladly.” 
 
 “At least you will be safe with me for the time, 
 and if there is nothing that we can do I can advise 
 you as to the future.” 
 
 “I will try very hard to please you in any position 
 in which you may place me.” 
 
 No one could look into the honest little face and 
 doubt that. 
 
 “I am sure of that. But we have made all these 
 arrangements without even knowing each other’s 
 names. I am Mrs. Shannon.” 
 
 Zt hurt Carroll grievously to be compelled to begin 
 tier new life with this kind woman with a He; but* 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 73 
 
 in order to save her mother the shame that had already; 
 ruined her own life she knew that it must be done. 
 
 Her eyes fell; but she raised them bravely, and 
 answered, without a tremor in her voice: 
 
 “My name is Coralie—Coralie Mills. I am a wid¬ 
 
 ow. 
 
 \ “Coralie! That is very pretty and suited to you. 
 jThere is just another thing that we have not men¬ 
 tioned: were you going to the destination which you 
 had chosen for any special reason ?” 
 
 “No” 
 
 “Then you will not mind changing it?” 
 
 “Not in the least.” 
 
 “That is well. We live in Philadelphia, my son 
 and I, and have decided since the wreck, and in con¬ 
 sideration of the fact that all our baggage was burned 
 in the baggage-car, that we will return there at once. 
 You will not object, then, to accompanying us?” 
 
 “I shall only be too glad.” 
 
 “Then that is settled.” 
 
 Mrs. Shannon arose with a smile. She had taken 
 a great fancy to the girl whose future she had taken 
 into her own hands, and it was with something like 
 a gratification of pride that she looked upon her 
 beauty. She was standing with Carroll's hand still 
 clasped in hers when the door opened and a young 
 man entered. 
 
 He was handsome, after the blonde fashion of the 
 Norsemen, and filled the idea perfectly in so far as 
 his form and features were concerned. Women raved 
 over Russell Shannon, perhaps one reason being his 
 proverbial indifference to them all. It was that very 
 fact which prevented any misgivings in the mind of 
 
74 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 his mother when she proposed taking the beautiful 
 but unknown girl into her household as a member of 
 her family. 
 
 There was no danger to Russell, and the mother 
 turned to him without a thought of fear in her proud 
 pld head. 
 
 “The train leaves for New York at four, mother 
 he said to her, in a slow, musical voice. “Shall 
 you be ready?” 
 
 “Yes,” she answered, smiling at him fondly. “We 
 shall not go alone, however. The wreck has given us 
 an addition to our lonely household, and I am sure 
 you will feel as glad to have a young person in it as 
 1 shall. Let me introduce you. Mrs. Mills, my son, 
 Mr. Shannon.” 
 
 Russell Shannon bowed coldly ; then, as his eyes 
 Tested on the beautiful face, the expression changed to 
 one of intense interest, that might have aroused some 
 alarm in his keen-sighted mother’s eyes had she 
 been looking, but she was gazing at Carroll, and the 
 unmoved countenance pleased her. 
 
 Her only fear had been for Carroll, not her son; 
 but, with a sigh of relief, that thought was removed. 
 
 How strangely the future convinced her of her 
 own short-sightedness God alone foresaw then. 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 
 “Bad news flies swiftly,” and the old trite saying 
 Was never more fully verified than upon the occa¬ 
 sion when New York awoke the following morning 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 75 
 
 with the news of the great Hudson River disaster. 
 
 It was cried upon the streets by diligent newsboys 
 in connection with the printed story of the terrible 
 storm; but none of the persons in whom we are 
 most interested paid any heed. What had they to do 
 with the Hudson River disaster? Their own grief 
 was surely great enough without their weeping for 
 others at that time. 
 
 Mrs. Millbourne remained during the night with 
 Miss Kingman, while Hilliard made two pilgrimages 
 to the tenement to make sure that Carroll had not re¬ 
 turned there, but each time his fears became even 
 greater than before. There was nothing like sleep 
 possible for any one of them while Carroll's fate re¬ 
 mained a mystery, and it is doubtful it they even 
 thought of it. 
 
 They made some pretense of eating breakfast; then, 
 as he arose from the table, Hilliard announced his 
 intention of going at once to the police station to see 
 if there had been any discoveries made there. Mrs. 
 Millbourne returned to her own home accompanied by 
 Miss Kingman, as she knew that to that place Carroll 
 would come, if at all, and her wild grief and intense 
 nervousness made it impossible for her to remain 
 longer away. 
 
 Hilliard could scarcely have described his own emo¬ 
 tions as he entered that little office, fearful of the 
 worst, yet hoping against hope for the best; but his 
 heart seemed choking him as he stood before the ser¬ 
 geant's desk, utterly incapable of putting his question. 
 
 But the man, though he was not the same one who 
 had been upon duty during the night, seemed to under:-* 
 stand. 
 
-76 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “Are you Mr. Hilliard ?’ 7 he asked. 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “You have seen the man whom we sent over to 
 you ?” 
 
 “No.” 
 
 The word was almost inaudible, so great was the 
 anxiety underlying it. 
 
 * The sergeant paused; he was so little given to 
 sympathy in that life where the people he met, as 
 usual, were such hardened wretches; but this man was 
 different, and he was suffering. 
 
 “You have—heard?” stammered Hilliard, unable to 
 endure the silence. 
 
 “Yes. There is always a doubt of its being true, 
 you know, and you must not abandon hope until there 
 is none. Have you read your paper this morning?” 
 
 “No.” 
 
 “There has been a terrible accident on the Hudson 
 River Railroad.” 
 
 “An accident?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “Well?” 
 
 Hilliard’s face was ghastly. He seemed to under¬ 
 stand but too well what was. meant, but he would not 
 allow himself to believe. He listened with a strained 
 breathless horror that was piteous. 
 
 “The cars were blown from a trestle-work and 
 then took fire. There are a great number of killed 
 and wounded; more killed than they know of at pre¬ 
 sent, as all the bodies have not yet been extricated.” 
 
 “Yes,” very quietly. 
 
 “Will you look at this?” 
 
 The sergeant reached under his desk and drew: 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 n 
 
 forth a morning paper. He pointed to that fatal 
 column “Killed,” and gradually ran his finger down 
 ithe column until it rested upon the lines: <,< 
 
 “Miss Carroll Melbourne; pinioned by a broken 
 seat and almost cremated. Clothes entirely de¬ 
 stroyed.” I f 
 
 Hilliard saw nothing further. After all, what dif¬ 
 ference did anything else in the world make to him? 
 Carroll was dead! > £ 
 
 He leaned against the sergeant’s desk, white and 
 trembling, not a murmur escaping his pallid lips. Ifi 
 seemed to him that the end of the world had come, 
 and nothing mattered after that. Then he became 
 aware, in that dazed way that each of us must have 
 felt under some great crisis in our own lives, that the 
 sergeant was speaking to him. | -• 
 
 “You don’t know that it is true,” he was saying. 
 “The station where the accident happened is not far 
 from here. Why don’t you take a friend with you 
 and run up there? You see, they say she was almost 
 cremated; might there not be some mistake?” 
 
 Hilliard shook his head. His voice bore no simi¬ 
 larity to his own as he replied: 
 i “It is not likely. How could they have got tha 
 name ?” 
 
 The sergeant was silent. 
 
 “Good-day, sergeant,” he said, heavily. “I shall 
 see you again as soon as it can be done.” 
 
 “You are going up there?” 
 
 ; “Yes.” 
 
 The man looked after him as he went down the 
 short flight of steps and into the street, then turned 
 to an officer beside him. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 7b 
 
 “That fellow got it in the heart that time,” he 
 said, with genuine feeling. “I never saw a man feel 
 (anything more keenly. God help him! I lost a 
 sweetheart myself once.” ¥ 
 
 Almost without knowing what he did, Hilliard 
 (walked swiftly in the direction of the Grand Gen-] 
 tral Depot. Arrived there he bought his ticket, then 
 sent a messenger with a simple note to Mrs. Mill- 
 bourne, telling her he had found some trace, but that 
 was all. He took his place in the train with bowed, 
 head, knowing that he was going to bring home the 
 body of the girl whom he had so loved, knowing that 
 he should find her there and that she was lost to him 
 forever, yet betraying his emotion by never a word. 
 
 The most careless observer could have told how he 
 Was suffering; his most intimate friend would not 
 have approached him under the sorrow that he must 
 have recognized. 
 
 The conductor felt for him when he arrived at the 
 station, knowing by intuition what he was going there 
 for, for there were others upon the train with that 
 same wretched mission before them. There were car¬ 
 riages to meet them, provided by the kindness and 
 thoughtfulness of the Jeffers family, and almost as if| 
 they were following the lifeless bodies themselves, the' 
 carriages wound slowly up the hill. 
 
 Ballard Hilliard did not hesitate. With bared head 
 be walked into the room where a number of impro¬ 
 vised biers were standing, spectral with their white 
 draperies in the shadowy light. 
 
 He spoke the name of the one he had come to 
 seek in the ear of the attendant, w r ho led him across 
 the room and very gently turned the sheet from an up- 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 73 
 
 turned face that was still covered by a handkerchief* 
 How well he remembered the beautiful reddish-' 
 gold of that sunny head. He turned from it for a 
 moment, his heart seeming strangled by a groan. It 
 was the first that had escaped him, and was quickly 
 suppressed. He would have removed the handker* 
 chief, but the attendant stopped him. \ 
 
 “Don’t do it, sir!” he exclaimed. 66 It would only 
 make it all the worse for you to bear. She was so 
 badly burned that even the doctors were horrified. 
 Don’t remember her like that, sir, if you ever loved 
 her!” 
 
 If he ever loved her! How like bitterest mockery 
 the words seemed to him! If only he could have ex¬ 
 changed places with her there, or have lain beside her, 
 life would have seemed less hard; but he must bear it 
 like a man. That was what she would have wished, 
 and he knew it. j 
 
 He gave the orders for Aer removal home, attended 
 to every minute detail; then knowing that all was 
 done that could be done, he t$>ok the train home—the 
 same train that carried the little form for whom he 
 was grieving—to tell the story to that mother whose 
 heart he knew would break. 
 
 If he could have known that in the next car to him 
 the real Carroll Melbourne sat alive and well, his 
 life—the months of weary misery that followed—* 
 would have been very different; but Providence, if 
 always wise, is not always kind and neither knew efi 
 the other’s proximity. 
 
 Plilliard was striving, even in the first hours of his 
 blinding grief, to fix upon some reason for her leaving 
 home; but he could find none. Since he had discovered 
 
$0 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 tliat she would have nothing further to do with 
 him, he had let her alone, though his heart had re¬ 
 mained firm in its allegiance. He had even written to 
 her that, if it were her will, the secret should be pre¬ 
 served from Miss Kingman; yet, in spite of all, she 
 had gone. 
 
 Then the last* words she had ever written him 
 Caine back to his memory with singular force: 
 
 “I could not be happy, even in my grave, know¬ 
 ing that I had robbed her. If you would make me 
 a recompense for the sorrow you have caused me by 
 your silence, go on with your marriage to her. I do 
 not blame you, dear; but you must do that for my 
 sake. It is the last request that I shall ever make of 
 you.” 
 
 j And it was. 
 
 ! iWhat should he do now? All the nobility of the 
 Woman who was his promised wife came back to him. 
 He recalled every act of hers of the night before, when 
 his conduct must have appeared most strange to her. 
 She, too, had loved Carroll; and, with bowed head 
 and heart breaking under its,' terrible burden, he saw 
 that he must do what his love had asked. What 
 mattered his life now? s 
 
 And his resolution was, that he would tell her part 
 of the truth—not all, in justice to Carroll—and let 
 her decide the rest. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 81 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 
 Had it not been for the bitter memory of the past 
 and the horrible knowledge of what the future held 
 in store for her, Carroll would have been content in 
 the new home into which it seemed that God had 
 sent her. 
 
 Mrs. Shannon and her son lived alone in all the 
 luxury of wealth, with none of its ostentation, and 
 from the beginning, while Carroll had her regular 
 duties to perform—they were not menial—she was 
 made one of them. There was never greater kindness 
 or consideration shown a stranger than she received 
 from both, and her lot, all things considered, seemed 
 to have fallen into a peculiarly easy groove. She had 
 told Mrs. Shannon little of her former life, adhering 
 as strictly to the truth as her unfortunate situation 
 would allow, and her benefactress had asked no ques¬ 
 tions beyond what it was most desirable that she 
 should know. Coralie Mills had been married, and 
 her husband had died at a most piteously unfortunate 
 lime, and that alone was enough to insure sympathy 
 and kindly treatment of the good woman, even if the 
 girl’s beauty had not made its own undeniable impres¬ 
 sion. 
 
 But there was a cloud upon the horizon—a cloud 
 that was to obstruct all the sun in Carroll’s new life, 
 though still she was piteously unconscious of it. 
 
 She had been in her new quarters scarcely two 
 months when the storm broke cruelly, fiercely cut¬ 
 ting her perhaps with almost as keen sorrow as she 
 had ever known, from her very innocence of wrong. 
 
82 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 One duty which she was expected to perform each 
 day, and which had become a peculiar pleasure to 
 her, was that in the afternoon she should read to 
 Mrs, Shannon for a couple of hours—sometimes 
 poetry, sometimes romance—a capacity in which Car* 
 roll was peculiarly gifted. One afternoon while the 
 reading was in progress Russell Shannon chanced to 
 come into the room, and, fascinated by the sound of 
 the musical voice, he sat down silently behind the 
 reader and listened. From that day he was always 
 present during those hours of the day. His mother 
 generally fell asleep at the end of the time, a signal to 
 Carroll that her duty was done, and that her time was 
 her own. 
 
 She had been reading upon the day in question from 
 a popular romance in which the heroine quotes an ex¬ 
 tract from a little poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox: 
 
 “You have heard me quote from Plato 
 A thousand times, no doubt; 
 
 Well, I have discovered he did not knew 
 What he was talking about.” 
 
 She had just finished the line when the gentlest 
 and most refined of snores told her that Mrs. Shan* 
 non slept. She closed the book, placed it upon the 
 table, arose, and with a faint smile thrown to the son 
 of her benefactress, she silently left the room. Her 
 own chamber offered little attraction to divert her 
 (from her reflections, and she sought the little conser¬ 
 vatory instead; for is there not something in the com* 
 panionship of flowers that sweetens solitude? She 
 wandered among them for a while, then sat down be-* 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 8 3 
 
 side a great Japanese lily of singular beauty, seeing 
 nothing. Her arms rested upon the back of the seat, 
 her head was turned in the direction of the window. 
 She was evidently musing too deeply to hear the light 
 footfall behind her, for her lips moved, and the words 
 she had read fell from them: 
 j 
 
 “You have heard me quote from Plato 
 A thousand times, no doubt; 
 
 Well, I have discovered he did not know 
 What he was talking about.” 
 
 ' 
 
 Her voice died away slowly, and she was startled 
 to hear some one say: 
 
 “Don’t you think Mrs. Wilcox struck the keynote 
 of a great truth when she wrote those lines ? Do you 
 believe that there can be anything like platonic friend* 
 ship between man and woman ?” , j. 
 
 She glanced up, though she had already recognized 
 the voice. It was Russell Shannon who stood there. 
 There was an expression upon his face such as she 
 had not seen there before; but it did not alarm her. 
 She answered very gently: 
 j “Yes, I believe in friendship. Do not you?” 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 i “Not that kind. A man is too indifferent for 3 
 friend, or too passionate. Certainly there is a sort 
 of careless well-wishing between the sexes, an occas¬ 
 ional visit, perhaps, some trifling attention, forgotten 
 as soon as given; but not that kind of friendship—• 
 not the kind that sacrifices, that endures through alf 
 ages. That is love. Do you think a man always 
 knows the moment that interest alters to love?” 
 
84 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Carroll was looking at him without seeing him. 
 Her memory had reverted to that sweet time when 
 for those few months she had been so blissfully happy. 
 [Was there ever a time when she did not recognize that 
 great love? Ah, dear God! how her heart yearned 
 over it! .Was it to be wondered at then that her face 
 assumed a dreamy tenderness that deceived her list¬ 
 ener ? 
 
 “Does it ever?” she questioned, in an undertone 
 filled with emotion. “It seems to me that love is born 
 upon the instant. It knows no past, recognizes no 
 future, lives alone in the present. It is sufficient unto 
 itself. There is but. one holier creation of God, and 
 that is gratitude.” 
 
 Russell Shannon was stirred to the very depths of 
 his heart. How was he to understand that she was 
 speaking to a memory and not to him ? He knew that 
 he loved that girl-wife, who was so recently widowed, 
 and, man-like, her sorrow but endeared her to him. 
 He had misunderstood her -words. 
 
 “Love knows no past.” 
 
 That was the expressed thought that was her undo¬ 
 ing. 
 
 He took the seat beside her and slipped his arm 
 about her waist, his countenance filled with a manly- 
 chivalrous devotion that was an honor to any woman. 
 
 “Coralie,” he whispered, “I know that I have done 
 little to deserve the love of any woman. I may be 
 speaking to you with brutal suddenness, but if love is 
 born like that, surely I may be forgiven. Darling, 
 have you never suspected—” 
 
 But she shrank from him in fear and trembling. 
 
 “Don’t!” she gasped, feebly, putting up her hands 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 85 
 
 as if to ward off a blow—“don't, for the love of 
 Heaven! You don’t know what you are saying! 
 iVVhat do you know of me that you should—” 
 t She paused, unable to continue, and he finished the 
 sentence for hen 
 
 '“That I should ask you to become my wife? I 
 know that I love you. Is it not enough ? Ah, don’t! 
 Do you think I do not understand? You have suf¬ 
 fered bitterly, cruelly, perhaps; but that only endears 
 you to me. See, I ask no questions. I am more than 
 willing to trust you. You shall have your own time. 
 Only tell me that some day you will be my wife, and 
 I shall be content to wait.”. 
 
 For the first time during those awful months of 
 suffering Carroll was weeping. Her whole heart 
 seemed melting into tears. She did not repulse him 
 as he drew her to his breast. It seemed such a com¬ 
 fort to rest upon the bosom of one whom she did 
 not fear. She allowed him to soothe her, listened as 
 he murmured words of hope and consolation; then 
 she lifted her glistening eyes to his. 
 
 “I would give all this world,” she said, brokenly, 
 “if I were but worthy of your love. I would give 
 my life if I might but answer you as I should like; 
 but that cannot be. I can never be your wife—never! 
 There are reasons that reach higher than eternity that 
 will stand between you and that for all ages!” 
 
 “Coralie!” 
 
 “If you would spare me a grief as great as any 
 that I have ever known, never speak to me again upon 
 this subject. I have been so content here. Do not 
 make it necessary that I should go out into the world 
 alone, for I am afraid. 1 am so helpless, so cruelly 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 alone, and oh, God! life has been so hard!’* 
 
 Still she had not drawn herself from his embrace. 
 There was nothing in it beyond the expression of af- 
 ifection of an honest man; there was not a shadow of 
 insult in the encircling arm. It was but a tender ex¬ 
 pression of love, that was all. 
 
 "If it distresses you, dear heart, you may be quite 
 sure that the subject will be buried in my own bosom,” 
 he said, softly; “but there will come a time when you 
 will repent. The greatness of my love insures that, 
 and when that time comes there is just one thing that 
 I would have you remember, Coralie: it is ‘that a 
 love like mine can know no death.’ When you have 
 changed toward me—when my love has ceased to be 
 a burden to you, you will come to me, you will tell me, 
 you will trust me, will you not?” 
 
 She arose and stood before him, her eyes still shin¬ 
 ing under her tears. 
 
 "I will trust you all my life as the kindest, most 
 generous, the noblest man I have ever known!” she 
 said, brokenly. 
 
 He drew her to him, and her lips touched his fore¬ 
 head with the simplicity of a child; then he let her go. 
 
 If that had but-been all! But it was not. A pair 
 of stern, cold eyes, glittering under a pride that was 
 their owner’s single and besetting sin, had witnessed 
 the latter portion of the scene, and had seen the tears, 
 had heard the avowal of love on the part of the man, 
 and had heard the answer—“I will trust you all my 
 life as the kindest, most generous, the noblest man 
 I have ever know r n,” was her own construction put 
 upon it. 
 
 As Carroll left the conservatory, a heavy hand waa 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 87/ 
 
 placed upon her arm, and a hoarse voice that shq 
 /scarcely recognized said in her ear: 
 
 > “Come with me to the library ; I wish to speak with 
 you.” si' 
 
 The poor child looked into Mrs. Shannon’s set face, 
 and that intuition that does not often err in woman 
 told her that another crisis in her life had come, the 
 most cruel and undeserved, perhaps, of all. 
 
 Chapter XIV. 
 
 • All through the miserable days that followed the 
 discovery of her daughter’s supposed death and the 
 burial of that unknown girl over whom such passion- 
 ate tears were shed, Ballard Hilliard was more like 3 
 son to Millicent Millbourne than anything else. 
 
 He was beside her constantly, speaking some word 
 of consolation, or performing some little act of kind¬ 
 ness that, without acknowledgement upon her part, 
 was an infinite source of comfort to her. She had not 
 paused to question herself yet as to its cause. Her 
 grief was too new and too bitter for that. She simply] 
 yielded to the sweetness of feeling that she was not 
 quite alone in the world—that she was not entirely 
 without friends, and indulged her sorrow. © v 
 
 And Hilliard found the greatest comfort in minis¬ 
 tering to her. All this Geraldine Kingman watched 
 in silence. If her great, true heart ached under it, 
 if there was a suspicion aroused in her, if in the si¬ 
 lence of her own chamber at night she grieved over a 
 shattered dream, no one knew. She shut it up in hen 
 
88 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 bosom, conscious that her lamentations could effect 
 nothing. 
 
 She was as kind—perhaps kinder—to Hilliard than 
 she had ever been before, and his heart smote him 
 as he saw and thoroughly recognized the greatness of 
 her generosity. How he cursed himself for the past 
 only God and his own conscience could have guessed; 
 but it was beyond recall; and when his grief could be 
 dominated by reason he saw that he must bury it in 
 the grave that they had dug for his dead love. 
 
 With that thought uppermost in his mind he went 
 to call upon Miss Kingman one evening. He bent and 
 kissed her as she came into the room—a thing which 
 he had forgotten to do of late—but she did not repulse 
 him. On the contrary, she smiled under it, and did 
 not endeavor to disengage her hand from his as he 
 drew her beside him upon the sofa. 
 
 “I am glad to see you looking better, Ballard,” she 
 said to him, gently. “You are growing more like 
 yourself again.” 
 
 His face flushed. 
 
 “I don’t think I can ever be like my old self in one 
 way, Jerry,” he said, using the old pet name that he 
 had used to her in childhood. “I should have to lo.se f 
 this new r -found appreciation and gratitude to be that, 
 and that would take something that is most sweet out 
 of my life. Do you know wdiat I mean, Jerry? Ah, 
 dear, how little I have known you! How little I have 
 guessed the real worth of your character! How little 
 I have deserved your affection!” 
 
 She grew crimson under the pleasure his words 
 gave her. There was nothing that she could answer. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 89 
 
 To disclaim the truth of his statement was like affec¬ 
 tation, and there was nothing else to be said. 
 
 “I have a confession to make to you, Jerry,” he 
 went on, after a pause—“a confession that should 
 have been made long ago, but you are too brave to 
 understand how an unpleasant duty is put off from 
 one day to another, in the hope that it will come easier 
 at some future time. You could not do that. You 
 would face the situation at once.” 
 
 She put up her hand with a little gesture of depre¬ 
 cation. 
 
 “Oh, hush!” she cried, huskily. “How little you 
 know me, after all! I am not brave, but the greatest 
 coward under heaven. If that had not been true, do 
 you think I should not have relieved you of your em¬ 
 barrassment long ago?” 
 
 “You know then?” 
 
 She hesitated before replying, then answered, very 
 softly: 
 
 “I have suspected.” 
 
 He covered his face with his disengaged hand. 
 There were no tears in his eyes when he removed it, 
 but she felt a quivering sigh shake his entire form. 
 
 “Do you think you can forgive me, Jerry?” he 
 whispered. 
 
 “There is nothing to forgive, Ballard,” she an¬ 
 swered, striving to steady her voice. “You were not 
 to blame. The heart is the one organ that will not 
 be held in subjection. I can not quite understand the 
 situation, but the only fault I have ever found was 
 that you did not trust me. But that now is forgotten.” 
 
 “Do you mean that there can no longer remain be- 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 90 
 
 tween us the promise that was given in the old days! 
 Do you mean that you will not be my wife?” 
 
 She was silent for a moment, then turned to him 
 very gravely. j 
 
 “Look at me, dear,” she said, quietly, “and as yotf 1 
 value your life’s happiness and mine, conceal notk^ 
 ing of the truth from me. .What is your own desire; 
 upon the subject?” 
 
 “That we should stand by the old pledge, Jerry, ifi 
 you think it will ever be possible for you to trust me>‘ 
 again,” he answered, earnestly. 
 
 A mist came before her eyes. A great cry of thank¬ 
 fulness rose in her heart, but there was little display 
 of emotion in her manner to him. Tender, gentle, but 
 not demonstrative, she pressed his hand slightly. 
 
 “Then your wish is mine, Ballard,” she replied. 
 
 He took her in his arms and kissed her. 
 
 “I have not deserved this,” he said, his voice break¬ 
 ing painfully; “but I swear to you, Jerry, that I will 
 do everything that lies in my power to make you 
 happy. I swear that if the devotion of my whole life 
 can be reward sufficient for your generosity, it shall 
 be yours foreveri” 
 
 “Don’t!” she cried, desperately. “You make me’ 
 feel such a hypocrite. Do you think that it is alone 
 because of you that I have decided as I have? If it 
 really were consideration of you, I should have said 
 ‘no’ out of kindness, because I am afraid that I be¬ 
 lieve you would be happier without a wife; but I have 
 not the courage of my own convictions. I love you! 
 It sounds unwomanly and indelicate to say it under 
 circumstances such as these, but it is my own selfish¬ 
 ness that causes me to accept the sacrifice that you are 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 91 
 
 tnaking. Oh, Ballard! can't you see? Can't you un¬ 
 derstand? If there were another woman living whom 
 you preferred to me, I should release you without a 
 word; but as there is not, I will do all I can to make 
 your life a comfort to you, dear, and some day it may 
 not seem so hard as it does just at present.” 
 i There was more passion in her speech than any 
 he had ever heard her mak^ and the depth of her love 
 astonished him. 
 
 “Is it possible, Jerry,” he questioned, wonderingly, 
 “that you have loved me like that?” 
 
 “Did you ever doubt it?” 
 
 “I never suspected. The arrangement was made 
 for us, and you seemed always to me to have yielded 
 ■—well, because it was the easiest thing to do. I did 
 not think that my affection would have made the dif¬ 
 ference of a thought in your life.” 
 
 “Ballard!” 
 
 She had faced him passionately, all the glowing 
 depths of her nature aroused and beaming through 
 her burning eyes. 
 
 “Have I been so cold?” she asked, earnestly. “Have 
 1 been so unresponsive as that ? Then I have deserved 
 what I have received. But, oh, dear, you have been 
 mistaken! All my heart and soul have been yours. I 
 have loved you with a devotion that was a boundary 
 line for every other emotion. My whole self was 
 submerged in the sea of my affection—and you did 
 not know.” 
 
 “Forgive me.” 
 
 “Oh, yes! Let us begin again. Let me teach you 
 that I am not the creature for which you have mis¬ 
 taken me, who could give myself to the legalized 
 
92 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 crime of becoming the wife of a man whom I did not 
 love. How little we have known each other, after 
 all." 
 
 “But you have not yet heard all that I have to say. 
 I must tell you the story of that past which ought to 
 have belonged to you. I must—” 
 
 “No, I beg of you; don’t do it. I want to feel that 
 I have trusted you without explanation.” 
 
 “But there is danger, Jerry. Think of what the 
 future might contain.” 
 
 “Nevertheless, I prefer that you should remain si¬ 
 lent. Oh, grant me this! Let that episode be buried 
 in the grave with her whom we have both loved. I 
 don’t want you to feel that you must never speak of 
 her to me if the inclination is upon you. I only wish 
 that the history of that time should lie with you 
 alone.” 
 
 “It is not wise, Jerry! it is not best.” 
 
 “Then let the error be mine, and gratify my whim.” 
 
 “Are you afraid?” 
 
 “No; but I had rather trust you.” 
 
 “I must yield; but I do it with reluctance. ‘Perfect 
 confidence casteth out fear/ you know.” 
 
 She kissed him upon the lips, and he smiled his 
 gratitude. 
 
 “You will be my wife at once, Jerry?” he asked* 
 softly. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 “Nq,” she answered; “we must each have time to 
 recover. To become your wife now would be most 
 unwise. We must have time to forget. We are going 
 to begin anew, you know. I shall not expect you to 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 93 
 
 play the lover to me just at first. You must teach yout; 
 heart to turn to me.” 
 
 “But—” 
 
 “In this I am obstinate. You hold my promise: in 
 face of the past, Ballard; but you must wait, deaf. 
 In the summer, when the flowers are in bloom again, 
 then, if you will have it so, I will be your wife.” 
 
 “God bless you, Jerry!” 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 
 For some moments after their entry into the library; 
 there was a painful silence between Mrs. Shannon and 
 Carroll, a silence which Carroll felt she dared not 
 break, and which seemed to incense the proud woman 
 all the more. 
 
 None of the tenderness and gentleness that had be¬ 
 fore characterized her manner was noticeable then. 
 She was cold and hard and stern as granite, for had 
 she not received a cruel blow in her most vulnerable 
 point ? 
 
 She took a seat upon the sofa, sitting bolt upright, 
 with her hands crossed upon her lap, after motioning 
 her dependent to a chair before her. 
 
 ] “Coralie,” she said, at last, her voice cold with thafi 
 moisture that chills like ice, “do you think that I havd 
 deserved this treatment?” 
 
 The sw r eet eyes filled with tears. 
 
 “I am afraid you have misunderstood a scene which 
 you have just witnessed, dear Mrs. Shannon,” fal- 
 
94 
 
 A EITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 tered the girl. “You have deserved nothing that was 
 not most honorable-from me, and I assure you —” 
 
 There was a gesture indicating a desire for silence. 
 
 “Don’t add falsehood to your sin against me,” ex¬ 
 claimed the elder woman, even more frigidly. “It is 
 Tinnecessary and hurtful. I saw enough to quite un- ( 
 derstand what has been taking place here during the 
 hours that I have trusted both you and my son. I 
 confess to as great a disappointment in him as in you, 
 the fault being equal. But it seemed to me that you 
 owed me something more than this ingratitude!” 
 
 “Mrs. Shannon, I beseech you to listen to me!” 
 cried Carroll, in wild distress. “Upon my honor there 
 has nothing passed between me and your son that 
 you would have censured either of us for if you had 
 heard all. He has acted the part of an honorable man 
 under the influence of a most unfortunate love, while 
 I—” 
 
 “Have betrayed the trust of a benefactress,” inter¬ 
 rupted Mrs. Shannon, her face crimsoning with anger. 
 
 “I have no wish to say anything that is hard to you, 
 Coralie; but you have at least not behaved with the 
 ingenuousnesss toward me that I had the right to ex¬ 
 pect. I took you in when you were homeless and if 
 friendless, when you were in a condition in which % 
 few women would have received you, and you.have re- • 
 paid me by endeavoring to entrap my son into an en¬ 
 tanglement that is a disgrace "both to him and to his 
 mother.” 
 
 With a little inarticulate cry Carroll sprang to her. 
 feet. For a moment there was a flash of fire in her 
 eyes, then she commanded her voice sufficiently to 
 pant: 
 

 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 95 
 
 f "Kind as you have been to me Mrs. Shannon, much 
 as I owe you, you have not the right to say such 
 things as that to me, nor shall you. I have never 
 tried to entrap your son into anything. I don’t think 
 I should know how, even if I were to try. .When your 
 ’ son asked me to be his wife he conferred an honor up- 
 ! on me that I appreciate with all my heart, but he did 
 ; it entirely without encouragement from me.” 
 
 3 Had Carroll been less wounded over the conver¬ 
 sation she might have seen the whitened indignation 
 of that set, proud face; but her heart was too sore to 
 take note of outward indications. 
 
 "My son asked you to be his wife?” questioned 
 Mrs. Shannon, in a voice hard as granite. 
 
 "He did.” 
 
 A sneer passed over the rigid features. 
 
 "I think you are mistaken,” she said, heavily. 
 
 Carroll’s sensitive lip quivered piteously. 
 
 "Don’t say that, Mrs. Shannon,” she cried brok¬ 
 enly. “I know that I have been most unfortunate. 
 It may be that I am far from worthy of the honor that 
 your son conferred upon me, but he is a gentleman 
 who respects his mother too much to offer anything 
 less than that to a woman beneath her roof.” 
 
 That Mrs. Shannon felt the rebuke keenly, her ex- 
 pression but too plainly indicated, but it only served 
 I to increase her pride. But while pride dominated, fear 
 
 was also in the foreground of her emotions. Was it 
 possible that Russell really contemplated a marriage 
 with this woman of whose antecedents he knew ab¬ 
 solutely nothing? Was it possible that he could think 
 of her when he did not even know to a certainty that 
 her marriage was a reality ancf not a sham? But if 
 
96 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Russell had made up his mind to a step like that, 
 should she be able to prevent the union that would 
 mean absolute, undeniable ruin to him ? For that 
 .Carroll would think of rejecting the offer that Russell 
 Shannon would make her, never even occurred to his 
 adoring mother. 
 
 After a momentary silence and quick consideration 
 the sneer faded from Mrs. Shannon’s countenance. 
 Something of the kindness and gentleness to which 
 she had accustomed Carroll, returned, but it was over¬ 
 shadowed by a certain decision of speech, a firmness 
 of manner, that was not calculated to deceive. 
 
 “Perhaps you are right,” she said, quietly, “and I 
 have misjudged him; but even under those circum¬ 
 stances lie must realize that a marriage with you 
 would be utterly impossible for a man in his position. 
 I don’t wish to be hard upon you. I don’t wish to 
 to wound you, but perfect frankness is absolutely in¬ 
 dispensable at a time like this.” 
 
 “Will you allow me one moment?” asked Carrol!, 
 some of her own pride of birth betrayed in her tone. 
 “I would not have you for one instant believe ms 
 insensible to the great compliment that Mr. Shannon 
 has paid me, but I had not the remotest idea of ac¬ 
 cepting him, for I do not love him.” 
 
 Mrs. Shannon stared at her in astonishment. Was 
 it possible that the girl could be speaking the truth? 
 At all events, policy dictated that she should accept 
 it as such. 
 
 An expression which she intended should indicate 
 relief passed over her features. 
 
 “I am glad of that!” she exclaimed, earnestly. 
 *'Under those circumstances, perhaps you will not 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 98 
 
 object to acting in the matter under my dictation ?” 
 
 “I'have none whatever.” 
 
 "•If Russell has this foolish thing in his head, you 
 must realize how much better it would be for you to 
 be no longer under the same roof with him, at least 
 until he has recovered from the fever, so to speak.” 
 
 Carroll started. A deadly pallor crept over her 
 face. For the first time she seemed to thoroughly 
 comprehend what this meant to her. She was to be 
 thrown upon the world again at a time when it was 
 hardest. She was to lose the friend who had been 
 so much to her, through no fault of her own. Friend¬ 
 less, helpless, with that hideous illness hanging over 
 her that had already wrecked her life even with its 
 frightful shadow, she was to be turned into the streets* 
 for what fate God alone could tell. She shivered 
 slightly, but answered with the calmness of despair: 
 
 "Yes, I see.” 
 
 "That is well,” returned Mrs. Shannon, with n a 
 endeavor to conceal her satisfaction. "Of course, to 
 remove you from the house would not be the slightest 
 use if he were allowed to know where you had gone, 
 but that is what we must prevent. Will you tell me 
 what your answer was to him when he made this pro¬ 
 posal ?” 
 
 "I was too much agitated to remember either his 
 words or my own; but it was a rejection.” 
 
 "And his reply?” 
 
 Carroll hung her head for a moment, but with no 
 desire to withhold the truth. 
 
 "He was very kind to me,” she answered, trem¬ 
 ulously. "He said that he loved me too much to 
 accept—” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 gs 
 
 ji Her voice broke, and Mrs. Shannon’s fingers closed 
 spasmodically. Her son must be saved, let the cost be 
 to another what it would. 
 
 i understand,” she said, with more coldness than 
 before. “I think that you perceive that you owe me 
 Something of gratitude for my friendship for you in' 
 the past—a friendship which you must see was purely ’, 
 disinterested; do you not, Coralie ?” 
 
 “I do, Heaven knows!” [ 
 
 “And you would do something to repay it?” 
 
 , “Anything that lay within my power.” 
 
 : And looking into the earnest face, Mrs. Shannon 
 could not doubt the truth of her words. There was 
 some genuine relief in her countenance. She leaned 
 a trifle toward Carroll and took her hand. 
 
 “I know it will be hard upon you at a time like 
 this to go into a strange place; but you see the ne¬ 
 cessity as well as I can point it out to you. You 
 must go away at once without seeing Russell or allow¬ 
 ing him to suspect that you are going. When you are 
 gone you must be particularly careful that he does not 
 Sdiscover you. Have I your promise that you will 
 this?” 
 
 i K You have.” | 
 
 ! There was the anguish of death in the young voice-, f 
 But what was there left for her to do? She knew; 
 that she could no longer remain in the house where' 
 tier attraction had been her greatest misfortune. But 
 jyhat should she do under this new bitterness that was 
 Opening before her? Where should she go? And 
 Svhatt should she do ? 
 
 '• 'Mrs. Shannon seemed to read something of the 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 99 
 
 Horrible fear of the future that was passing through 
 Her brain. 
 
 I “You need not think that I shall quite abandon 
 you,” she said, more kindly. “Let me see that I can 
 .. trust you, and I will do all I can to assist you. I am 
 more sorry than I can say that this has occurred; but 
 | since it has, the sooner the wrench is made, the better 
 I'for us all.” 
 
 * “I see,” said Carroll, Huskily. Her eyes glazed 
 under the suffering she was enduring. “I shall go at 
 once. There is nothing I can say that would ex¬ 
 press my regret for what has occurred; but I swear to 
 you that your son is as safe from me as if eternity 
 were between us. Good-bye, and God bless you for 
 your kindness to me! The worst pain that I endure 
 is in the thought that you believe in my ingratitude,, 
 Some day, perhaps, you w'ill discover that I have not 
 deserved it. May I kiss your hand?” 
 
 She raised her jeweled fingers to her lips, held them 
 there a moment, then, with a tremendous effort at 
 strangling the sobs that rose in her throat, she stag¬ 
 gered from the room. 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 
 SUone, friendless, even more hopeless than she had 
 ever been, Carroll found herself once again in the 
 streets, with not even the shadowy hope Qf trifling 
 success that had before animated her. She was too 
 proud to accept the assistance that Mrs. Shannon had 
 
 her, but merely taking the money that was hers 
 
100 
 
 A LITTCE PRINCESS 
 
 by right of earning, she left the house that she had 
 grown to look upon almost as her home. 
 
 It seemed to her that she herself had erred in some 
 unknown way, that God should send such distress upon 
 her. Then she remembered how other women had 
 suffered, and striven to he brave. But it was a weary 
 fight. Utter desolation seemed to weigh her down— 
 a desolation from which there seemed absolutely no 
 escape. 
 
 And, worse than all, there was no promise in the 
 'future. 
 
 It was worse than a blank, for here was the knowl¬ 
 edge of that other hideously shadowed, little unknown 
 life for which she was responsible. A wild grief like 
 mania came upon her as she left the house. Suddenly 
 the world became a blank. She knew nothing, cared 
 for nothing, save the fact that she was alone and 
 wretched. Could she have done so then, she would 
 have called Ballard Hilliard to her at whatever cost 
 to another. 
 
 “Why should I care?” she exclaimed aloud, as she 
 Staggered along under the gathering darkness. “Her 
 sorrow could not be so great as mine. He would 
 come to me. I know it—I know it! It would give 
 my child a name—my child whom I have no right to 
 brand with the shame that is only mine! Great God 
 direct me! I have borne so much that I can bear no 
 more. Have mercy upon me! 
 
 The shades of evening were rapidly descending; a 
 few cold stars twinkled here and there in the heavens, 
 and a weakling moon filled the sky with a pale light 
 that failed to reach the earth. The night was clear 
 and cold, and numbers of pedestrians thronged the 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 101 
 
 streets. She saw none of them. She was led simply 
 by the misery that was upon her, uninfluenced by any 
 intention whatever. 
 
 Mrs. Shannon had given her some advice as to the 
 best place of residence during the next few weeks; 
 but if Carroll had listened, she had already forgotten. 
 
 She paused under one of the street lamps, leaning 
 against it for the support that her trembling limbs re¬ 
 fused to yield, and seemed to consider. 
 
 “Which shall it be?” she asked herself, in a quiver¬ 
 ing voice, as she looked at the twinkling stars for her 
 answer. "Which shall it be? I can bear it no longer. 
 My strength, mental and physical, is exhausted. To 
 send for him, or—the river? Oh, my love, my love, 
 why did not you see all this and save me? Why 
 could you not understand—you who knew life and its 
 suffering—what was in store for me, and save me 
 from the curse of our folly? You did not think! I 
 know! I know! You loved as blindly as foolishly as 
 madly as I, and the future was veiled. You do not 
 know the truth, or God himself could not have sep¬ 
 arated you from me. But you must know now! You 
 must! I would bear it if I could, but I can not, and f 
 have not the right to end it all in death!” 
 
 I She paused to consider it no longer. There was an 
 expression of wild determination in her eyes. The 
 fire of fever was leaping in her veins. 
 
 She turned to the first person upon whom her eyes 
 rested, and in a voice that had grown reckless and de¬ 
 fiant, she asked: 
 
 "Can you tell me where the nearest telegraph office 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 102 
 
 "Two blocks further on to the left,” answered the 
 man whom she had addressed, looking curiously at 
 the flushed excited face. 
 
 "Thank you!” she exclaimed, hurriedly, and started 
 away. 
 
 But already a sensation that she could not compre¬ 
 hend was overcoming her. Her head had grown 
 giddy. Her brain was reeling. She paused and 
 pressed her hand heavily against her forehead. 
 
 '"•What is the matter with me?” she groaned. "Am 
 I going blind? Great God!” 
 
 For a moment she stood there swaying to and fro. 
 The man who had given her the information regard¬ 
 ing the location of the telegraph office started toward 
 her, but before he could reach her side there was a 
 heavy fall, and she lay there quite motionless, face 
 downward, upon the street. 
 
 An officer was crossing the street as the man raised 
 her in his arms. 
 
 "This young lady is very sick, I am afraid, officer,” 
 the man said, gazing kindly into the beautiful face. 
 "I think she will require an ambulance.” 
 
 "Do you know her?” 
 
 "Never saw her before.” J 
 
 The ambulance call was sounded, and half an hour 
 later Carroll lay upon one of the white-draped cots 
 in a ward of the hospital. 
 
 Three w r eeks afterward she opened her eyes one 
 morning to realization. 
 
 The room was darkened and still as death, but she 
 felt a presence beside her. She put out her hand 
 curiously, feeling under the influence of a dream 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 103 
 
 rather than a reality. It touched that of a man. She 
 drew back with a slight cry. 
 
 “Who are you?” she whispered, faintly. “And 
 where am I ?” 
 
 j Before replying, the young man rose and opened 
 the shutters a trifle, letting in a ray of light. Then 
 he returned to his seat beside her. \ 
 
 i “You are in a hospital,” he answered, gently. “You 
 have been very ill, but we hope that will all be over 
 soon now. I am one of your physicians.” 
 
 “How long have I been ill?” 
 
 “About three weeks; but you must not ask any 
 questions at all, only lie very quietly, and be obedient. 
 That is not always easy when one is overrun with 
 curiosity, I am quite aware, but self-control is nec¬ 
 essary, you know.” 
 
 He smiled down upon her as he might have done 
 had she been a child, but there was little of an an^ 
 swering one in her eyes. 
 
 “Wait!” she cried. “There are some things that 
 I must know. As a physician you will understand 
 that the worry of it all would do more to retard my 
 recovery than a trifling exertion could possibly do. 
 Tell me something of myself, and I will try to be as 
 quiet as you could desire. How came I here?” 
 
 | “You fell in the street, and an ambulance brought 
 Jyou here.” 
 
 A faint degree of memory seemed to come to her. 
 She opened her lips to speak, but he motioned her 
 to silence. i 
 
 “If you do that I shall leave you at once,” ex¬ 
 claimed the young man. “There is just one thing 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 10*T 
 
 that we would like for you to tell us, for we have 
 been unable to learn anything whatever from you. 
 What is your name? And at what address can we 
 communicate with your husband ?” 
 
 An expression of relief, and at the same time a 
 flush of shame, crossed Carroll’s face. The relief 
 came from the knowledge that in her delirium she had 
 betrayed nothing; but her voice was quiet as she re¬ 
 plied ; i 
 
 “I am Mrs. Mills. My husband is—dead.” 
 
 “Dead?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “Forgive me. You spoke of him many times, but 
 only as Ballard. We could tell nothing from that, 
 you know. There, now, I am going to leave you. Try 
 to sleep, and to-morrow I shall have a pleasant sur¬ 
 prise for you.” 
 
 He closed the shutter again and left her there in 
 the darkness. At first it seemed to her that she could 
 never sleep until her mind was at rest upon other 
 points; but there was no one to ask, and her weakness 
 overcame her at last. She slept—slept for many hours 
 sweetly and quietly—awaking only in the morning 
 when the nurse stood over her and the sunlight wasf 
 streaming into the room. 
 
 The woman smiled pleasantly. 
 
 “There!” she exclaimed, “that has done you a world 
 of good! Why, you are so greatly improved that you 
 appear almost well!” 
 
 “I feel almost well. Tell me—” 
 
 “Not a word. The doctor will be here presently, 
 and you shall satisfy your curiosity all you like, but at 
 
A LITTLE FRINCESS 105 
 
 present I am dumb. Ah! here he is now. Doctor 
 Winter, your patient is greatly improved.” 
 
 “That is good. How are you, Mrs. Mills There 
 is a visitor for you this morning.” 
 
 “For me?” 
 
 j “Yes. Would you like to see her?” 
 
 | The color surged into Carroll's face, 
 j “Who is she?” 
 
 “Some one whom you have never seen. Don't ex¬ 
 cite yourself, little woman. Perhaps I should not 
 have told you yet; but you know even doctors are not 
 always as discreet as they should be. It seemed to 
 me that it might be pleasant for you to have a com¬ 
 panion, now that you are recovering.” 
 
 His hand was smoothing her brow very gently; her 
 eyes held his; her breath was coming quick and in 
 little pants. 
 
 “You mean—” 
 
 She could not finish the sentence, and the doctor 
 turned to the nurse, who had left the room a moment 
 before, and was returning with a little bundle in her 
 arms. 
 
 “I mean your little daughter, whose acquaintance 
 you have not yet formed, Mrs. Mills,” he said, very 
 gently. 
 
 I Carroll held out her arms in breathless silence. The 
 little creature was put into them. 
 
 1 For some time she held the tiny face pressed closely 
 against her own, then her lips moved and they heard 
 her murmur; 
 
 “Ballard's baby and mine! God bless my little 
 Princess!” 
 
106 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter XVII. 
 
 The art world of New York was in an uproar. 
 
 Ballard Hilliard’s new painting had been given tof 
 the public, and where before it had loudly praised* 
 his talent, it went further now, calling it genius, andl 
 comparing him with the old masters, whose work had 
 lived through ages. His everlasting fame was made, 
 and he knew it. 
 
 It was difficult to describe his sensations under the 
 glory that had come after the months of toil. It 
 had been a labor of love with him; his whole heart 
 had been in his work, and yet under the attendant 
 prestige, after the success of which he had dreamed 
 and for which he had labored, there was a sense of 
 something missing—that something which would never 
 come to him again in life. 
 
 He blamed himself alone for the death of Carroll. 
 He looked upon himself as much her murderer as 
 if his hand had hurled the train that bore her into 
 eternity; and his grief was something that never could 
 be buried. * 
 
 Not that he ever uttered a word of his sorrow to[ 
 any living being; but it was there, poisoning all his] 
 life, forbidding even the prospect of happiness. He 
 knew that he had acted the part of a coward in not 
 telling the truth to both those pure women who loved 
 him; but it was too late for regret to avail anything. 
 The little that lay in his power was to make Geraldine 
 Kingman as happy as he could, and Heaven knows 
 it was little enough that he could do, with that dead! 
 heart lying like a lump of lead in his bosom. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 107 
 
 The congratulations that he was receiving upon all 
 sides made the memory of Carroll particularly alive 
 in his heart again, for it was the portrait that he had 
 painted of her that had brought his world-wide fame; 
 and as he sat before his easel, thinking of those sweet, 
 dead days when she had been there beside him, when 
 she had been unable to work because of the tumult of 
 jlove that was raging in his breast, he rose suddenly, 
 passing his hand before his eyes to free them from 
 the tears that were blinding him. 
 
 “I must forget you, my darling!” he whispered 
 to himself, knowing at the time that he was asking 
 an impossibility of his heart. “I must forget you. 
 It is unjust to my promised wife that I should re¬ 
 member like this—that I should live in the thought 
 of the past. And yet I can't—I can't! It is the 
 punishment of God for my sin that I can not!” 
 
 He walked over to the window and stood there,, 
 gazing sadly, dreamily over the tops of the build¬ 
 ings toward the distant river, deaf to all sound, blind 
 to the outward world, when some one touched his 
 elbow. 
 
 7 He started slightly and turned. The noble face of 
 his betrothed wife was beside him. 
 j “Dreaming, Ballard?” she asked, gently. “Ah, 
 /dear, you are living too much in your success. You 
 are too ambitious. Do you not remember the advice 
 ■that was given to Cromwell? You are forgetting 
 everything but this thirsting for fame. It pleases me 
 more than you can think to hear the world singing 
 your praises; but, there is something in life be c Mes 
 that” 
 
108 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 He placed both his hands upon her shoulders and 
 looked down into her face sadly. 
 
 “I know it, Jerry,” he answered, unconscious of 
 the pathos of his voice; “I know it. I saw success 
 through halo. What a mistake it was! It has turned 
 to Dead Sea fruit upon my lips.” 
 
 Miss Kingman’s face grew pale. 
 
 “You are so unhappy, then?” she asked, not re¬ 
 proachfully, but miserably. 
 
 He saw that he had wounded her. 
 
 “Don’t let us misunderstand each other, Jerry!” he 
 exclaimed, more lightly. “Life is not such a horror 
 as some of us would try to make it, if we only see 
 the right side of it. I realize that I have been living 
 too much in my work. I find that it does not contain 
 all of living, by any means. I have been selfish with 
 it, and I am just awakening to the fact. Jerry, did 
 you think that my thirst for fame had made me for* 
 get what I owe you?” 
 
 “Not that, Ballard; but it seemed to me that you 
 were forgetting yourself in it. You don’t realize it,* 
 but your health is failing. You are grown pale and 
 thin; your eyes have lost their brilliancy. See, your 
 hand trembles as it rests upon my shoulder. You need 
 rest and a change.” 
 
 He looked at her a moment earnestly, then said: 
 
 “When you are ready to go with me, Jerry, I will 
 take the rest you prescribe. Until then I must work.” 
 
 She shrunk from him just a trifle. 
 
 “'Don’t ask me to do that, dear ; at least, just yet.’ 
 It seems to me that you would be better without me 
 ifor awhile. I seem to remind you of the past. If 
 you will not go, Ballard, then I shall for a little 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 109 
 
 while. I have had an invitation to visit Philadelphia 
 'for a few weeks, and I think I shall go. If you find 
 that you need me, come for me and I shall return 
 at once.” 
 
 She was looking at him longingly, yearningly, un¬ 
 conscious that she was betraying herself in her words, 
 unconscious that he could read the desire underlying 
 her expression, that he should come for her because 
 he could not get along without her. But he under¬ 
 stood, as a man always does who does not love the 
 woman as she loves him, and a sigh escaped him. 
 j ? “To whom are you going?” he asked, quietly. 
 
 “To Mrs. vShannon. You remember, do you not? 
 'She was an old friend of my mother. You have met 
 her.” f 
 
 “Yes, I know, and I have met her son. Are you 
 quite sure that you will not forget me, Jerry?” 
 
 The question pleased her. 1 
 
 | “You know that I shall not.” 
 
 “I shall come for you, dear, unless you return by 
 the end of the week. Life will be very dreary and 
 'dismal without you.” 
 
 He said the words as if he meant them, and hope 
 arose in her heart. 
 
 j “Ballard,” she said, gently, “I am afraid it is very 
 ^dreary and dismal to you, anyway; but oh, believe 
 .me, it will be different by and by. One can’t go on 
 ^remembering forever. I never intended to speak to 
 you of the past again, but there is just one question 
 that I should like to ask you, and then we will bury 
 it forever. Have I your permission ?” 
 
 “Ask anything you will.” 
 
110 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “Then why was it that you never married her, 
 dear?” 
 
 There was a painful silence for a moment, then in 
 a voice which she never forgot, he replied: , 
 
 “ She,would not have me!” 
 
 Miss Kingman started. 
 
 The answer seemed to put an entirely new phase 
 upon the situation to her. Suddenly she remembered 
 that Carroll had told her she loved some one so in*‘ 
 tensely. Up to that moment she relieved it to have 
 been Ballard Hilliard, but how coo'd that have been 
 true if she had declined to be his wife? She thought 
 she saw it all then. She thought she understood the 
 misery that had ruined the young artist’s life. It 
 .was that he had loved without reciprocation. It made 
 everything seem so plain to her. Carroll had evidently 
 eloped with the lover of whom she had spoken to her, 
 .with the sad ending of death. And, in consequence, 
 she pitied Ballard Hilliard more than ever. 
 
 She put up her hands and took his face between 
 her palms. 
 
 “Forgive me!” she whispered. “I have misjudged 
 you, but it did not make me love you any the less. I 
 understand better now. We will never speak of itf 
 again, please. I am going to-morrow, Ballard. Will? 
 you take me to the train?” 
 
 “If you will promise me to remain but a week , 1 
 Dear heart, you are very necessary to me now. I 
 wonder if you understand how I appreciate your love ? 
 
 I wonder if you realize how grateful I am for the 
 kindness you have shown me? Ah, Jerry, you are 
 something more than a woman! You are an angel!” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS m 
 
 A few days later he went with her to the train, and 
 kissed her good-bye upon the platform. 
 i “Only one week, remember!” he said, as he left her 
 to watch the train pull out. 
 
 . “Dear Ballard!” she murmured almost happily, as 
 she saw him reach the ground in safety. “I don’t 
 think he quite realizes it himself, but he is learning 
 to love me! Thank God for that! Life is beginning 
 in earnest at last, and I am really to know what happi¬ 
 ness means.” 
 
 ! She settled herself back in her parlor-chair, con¬ 
 cealing her eyes because they contained tears that were 
 not those of misery. She had been very wretched 
 of late, but she felt that the sun was very closely be¬ 
 hind the cloud now, ready to burst forth with that 
 grandeur with which it had never yet shone for her. 
 
 She lived in a happy dream—and the future was 
 veiled! 
 
 .Was it best? 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 
 1 
 
 “Doctor Winter, I have come to say good-bye!” 
 
 Carroll stood at the door of the young doctor’s 
 private room, pale, but beautiful as a dream after 
 the severe illness through which she had passed. Her 
 hair had been cut short and curled about her head, 
 giving her the appearence of a nimbus-crowned saint. 
 In her arms she held the tiny reproduction of herself 
 that was at once the joy ahd shame of her young life. 
 
112 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Doctor Winter rose from the medical pamphlets 
 he had been studying. 
 
 - “You are not really going, Mrs. Mills, are you?” 
 he asked, with genuine regret in his fine eyes. 
 t “Yes,” she answered, endeavoring to smile, but in 
 reality giving her lovely countenance a sadder ex¬ 
 pression than before. “I have been discharged from 
 the hospital, you know.” j 
 
 . “In one sense I am glad, for it shows that you are 
 cured; but I shall miss you sadly, little woman. I 
 hope it is into a happier life that you are going.” 
 
 He had taken her hand and was looking down 
 into her face with a sincere interest that was not love, 
 and she read it aright. She was more grateful for 
 his friendship than words could have expressed. 
 
 “God knows!” she answered, simply. “It has been 
 hard enough so far, and yet, perhaps I should not 
 complain, because He has blessed me with good 
 friends.” 
 
 “I hope you count me among the number?” 
 
 ■ “I should be more than ungrateful, did I not. I 
 have come to thank you for all your kindness to me. 
 It has been greater than I had a right to expect from 
 any physician. If it were not presuming I should- 
 call it brotherly.” | 
 
 5 “And I do feel so, little woman. I am deeply in¬ 
 terested in you, and I should appreciate it as the 
 very greatest favor if you would allow me to see you 
 sometimes. You know I am the godfather of the 
 little Princess, and you have not the right to keep me 
 irom her.” 
 
 There was a smile in his eyes, and Carroll under¬ 
 stood perfectly the kindness of his intention. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 113 
 
 Tears choked her utterance for a moment, but she 
 found voice at last to reply: » 
 
 It would seem a little less like going into a life that 
 is cruelly new if I knew that I should see you oc¬ 
 casionally." 
 
 » “'Then you may be sure that you shall. Perhaps 
 you are not aware of it, but I myself am situated 
 somewhat as you are. I am alone in the world. Of 
 course I realize that it is nothing for a man compared 
 with what it is for a woman, but it is not easy for 
 either to know that there is absolutely no one who 
 belongs to him or her—that there is no one upon 
 whose sympathy one can depend. It will establish 
 a bond between us that will create a friendship if it 
 has not already done so, Mrs. Mills. Have you de¬ 
 cided yet what you shall do?” 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 “There is so little that I can do,” she answered, 
 drearily. “My little Princess will prevent my taking 
 the place of even a servant, I am afraid. The nurses 
 tell me that there is little hope of a woman with a 
 child. It looks very like starvation, I am afraid.” * 
 
 “Oh, not so bad as that. You must not despair. 
 You are too young for that. And you must always 
 remember that God helps those who help themselves. 
 Let me see; where is it that you are going?” 
 
 “I have secured a little room just at first in the 
 home of a friend of one of the nurses. It is very 
 small, very forlorn, but it is the best that I can do.” 
 
 “Suppose you allow me to call there this evening 
 and let us talk over the future. Let us see if it looks 
 quite as hopeless as you seem to think. There is 
 
214 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 always an avenue of escape to those who are wiTTinj 
 io find it.” j 
 
 “I am afraid it will be a poor place to which ta 
 ask you to come.” , 
 
 h “I shall not mind that.” i 
 
 fk, # f 
 
 1? “It is so good of you. You must not resent my 
 Hesitation, or think me lacking in gratitude, but there! 
 is a singular fatality following me. It is that I lose|. 
 any one who has been my friend in some horribly® 
 (dramatic way that never fails to .effect my life, as well 
 as that of the one who has liked me. I am half afraid 
 to accept your friendship, lest I bring upon you some 
 hideous evil.” 
 
 , Doctor Winter laughed. 
 
 “Why, what a superstitious little thing you are, t<* 
 be sure!” he exclaimed, with genuine amusement* 
 “And do you really believe that to be true?” 
 i ; “I do.” 
 
 t There was such earnestness in the reply, such ears* 
 festness in the face that was raised to his, that he 
 gently pressed the hand he held, the laughter dying out 
 pf his eyes. 
 
 i “Well, we will prove that it is not true. We will 
 fexplode your bugbear. I am going to be your friend, f 
 and nothing is going to happen to me out of the ordi«- £ 
 nary, either. Don’t think that I am tempting fate by 
 any undue boldness; but I am quite sure that God 
 never sent such a scourge as that into any woman’s 
 life. The results that you have observed have been 
 merely those of accident.” 
 
 “I hope that it is true.” 
 
 “You must not doubt it. It is like questioning 
 
"A LITTLE PRINCESS 115 
 
 the mercy of Heaven. I shall see you in your new 
 home to-night. How well the baby looks 1” 
 
 "Very.” 
 
 | "She is singularly like you. I don't think I even 
 saw a more striking resemblance.” 
 
 I "God help her!” 
 
 "Come, come, child! You must not give way to 
 gloomy reflections like that. You have had a great 
 sorrow, to be sure, but other women have had them 
 also. You are not alone in your chastisement. It is 
 not the correct thing to sit down and grieve. You 
 must be up and doing. I hope to find you in a better: 
 .frame of mind when I call to-night. Cheer up, little 
 woman. Remember that you have the little Princess 
 to live for now, and that you must be able to save 
 her from the sorrows that your own life has con* 
 tained.” ?. 
 
 A pain that was like white anguish came to Car- 
 roll's face. The thought he had expressed had never 
 come to her before, and it entered her soul like a red- 
 hot iron. She pressed the little form closer to her, 
 as if by her great love she would protect the little 
 creature from all harm through life. 
 
 ] Then Doctor Winter bent his noble head above the 
 baby. i 
 
 j "Good-bye, little one,” he said, in that cooing fash* 
 
 ■ ion that one unconsciously uses to infancy. "Keep 
 * mamma's spirits up until this evening, when we will 
 have a chance to look the future squarely in the face.” 
 
 He pressed Carroll's hand again, and, smiling 
 through the tears, she gave him the required address 
 and left him. 
 
 She had already said farwell to the others in the 
 
116 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 hospital whose acquaintance she had formed, and 
 with the direction from the nurse as to the locality of 
 her friend’s residence clasped in her hand, she left 
 the house. d. 
 
 The air was chill, but it seemed to brace her cour« 
 age for the unknown existence that was before her. 
 For the third time she was apparently commencing 
 life anew, yet because of the promise of Harry Win¬ 
 ter she felt less lonely, less utterly forlorn, than upon 
 either of the other occasions; and then, too, there was 
 that little life that had come to her, and which was all 
 her own. 
 
 She looked down into the tiny face with a wild 
 adoration as that thought filled her heart. ■ i 
 
 “My little one, my darling!” she whispered. “We 
 will face it together, you and I. Some day you wall 
 know the story of your mother’s life. Will you for¬ 
 give her then, or curse her? Will you say to me then, 
 as my mother said, ‘Death is better than shame ?’ Oh‘, 
 my little one, if I can ever make you understand how; 
 
 I loved him, how I love him still, you would forgive 
 me! Had I the right to brand you like this, even for 
 the sake of that woman who had been our only friend? 
 But it is too late now. The harm is done. The dis-‘ 
 grace is upon us both, reaching high as heaven, stretch¬ 
 ing through eternity. I can but abide now by the de¬ 
 cision that I have made. God forgive me, my little 
 Princess!” 
 
 She raised the child’s face to her lips, even there 
 in the street as she was, and pressed a passionate kiss 
 upon it. 
 
 She was terribly white, her countenance traced 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 117 
 
 with lines of sorrow; but there was a lady observing 
 her who failed to notice that. 
 
 She was coming down the street in the direction of 
 the hospital, when something in the young mother’s 
 movements attracted her. She looked again. The 
 face was bent, the hair beneath the closely fitting hat 
 was short, yet there was something strangely familiar 
 in the appearance. A cry arose to the woman’s lips, 
 but froze there. She watched until the white face 
 was raised, standing there as if rooted to the spot; 
 then, when Carroll had approached her, she put out 
 her hand and grasped the girl’s arm. 
 j “Carroll!” she gasped. 
 
 : The girl raised her eyes. There was a quick re¬ 
 toil, a low, panting cry, and but for the other’s quick¬ 
 ness the baby would have fallen to the earth. 
 
 ’“You—Miss Kingman!” she whispered, in a voice 
 whose hoarseness made it horrible. 
 
 “What are you doing here?” panted the elder 
 woman. “What is the meaning of this? How came 
 it that we read of your death in the paper? And, for 
 •the love of Heaven, teh me, whose child is this ?” 
 
 Chapter XIX. 
 
 t For a moment there was stupid silence upon Car- 
 roll’s part. She stood there apparently half uncon¬ 
 scious, gazing into the face of the woman for whose 
 sake she had made the most heroic sacrifice that ever 
 came to any life. 
 
 She tried to shake herself together, to think what 
 
318 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 it was required that she should say; but her br^ a 
 seemed paralyzed under the shock. She might have 
 known that this was one of those accidents that hap¬ 
 pen in every life, and so have been prepared, but the 
 thought had never been even remotely presented to 
 her. She tried to speak some words, but could think 
 of nothing connectedly, then put out her arms and 
 whispered, hoarsely: i 
 
 “Give me the child and let me go!” 
 
 “Not until you have told me what all this means!” 
 exclaimed Miss Kingman, almost passionately. “How. 
 came you by this child? Whose is she that she looks 
 so like you ? Answer me, Carroll! What is the mean¬ 
 ing of it all, and where is your husband ?” 
 
 The girl shrunk back without replying, her eyes 
 wild like those of a hunted animal brought to bay. 
 Her fingers were pressed upon her lips, as if holding 
 back by force the fierce agony that threatened to es¬ 
 cape them. 
 
 And then Geraldine Kingman’s manner changed, 
 and, in a tone of persuasion, she exclaimed: 
 
 “Have I not always,been your friend, Carrroll? 
 Can you not trust me now ?” 
 
 Then all the memory of the past came back to the ( 
 unhappy girl with hideous oppression. 
 
 “You have been!” she cried, in a voice that Miss 
 Kingman did not know. “God knows you have been, 
 but I need your friendship now more than ever be¬ 
 fore. Have pity upon me and let me go! Ask me no 
 questions, for I tell you that already my life i§ harder 
 than I can endure. Tf you ever cared for me, let me 
 be as dead to those whom I have loved and who have 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 119 
 
 loved me as if indeed I occupied the grave that was 
 dug for me. If you have any pity, let me go!” i 
 During the speech Geraldine Kingman’s face had 
 softened and changed. She was again the great¬ 
 hearted, charitable, noble woman that had brightened 
 and cheered the lives of Carroll and both her parents. 
 She had put aside self, and remembered only the sor^ 
 rows of others. 
 
 i “And if I refuse to do that, dear child,” she said', 
 gently, “you know that it is for your' good alone. 
 Carroll, let me help you. Trust me with the story of 
 your life. Do you think that I should desert you be* 
 cause of a misfortune? Perhaps—perhaps I know 
 more of the grief that has come into your life than—” 
 “No, no, no! You don’t! You are wrong—utterly; 
 and entirely wrong! No one knows—no one, save 
 God and my own heart. It is not wise or generous of 
 you to suspect anything that you do not know. For, 
 the love of Heaven, go away and leave me!” 
 
 The words were uttered so wildly, so pleadingly, 
 that tears came to Miss Kingman’s eyes; nor were 
 they of sympathy alone. There was something else—■ 
 some other feeling finding room in her breast, and it 
 was one of great thankfulness that what she had at 
 first feared was false. Some thought that Ballard 
 Hilliard might be concerned in this terrible shame had 
 come to her with sickening force, but she suddenly] 
 remembered what he had said to her of the reason 
 why he did not marry Carroll, and the words of the 
 latter had confirmed it. - j 
 
 While, therefore, her heart was alive with sympathy] 
 for the girl whom she had loved in a happier past* 
 
120 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 there was also a thanksgiving that the man whom she 
 loved was innocent of wrong. 
 
 The woman of fashion held the pauper child close 
 to her breast. 
 
 “I can't do that, Carroll,” she said, gently. “Is 
 that living up to the command of God? Dear, I don’t 
 want to hurt you, but your manner leaves but one 
 thing for me to believe. Try to understand what I 
 mean without my speaking the cruel words. But your 
 misfortune does not warrent my leaving you. Oh, 
 Carroll, dear child! how you must have suffered! 
 How bitterly hard your life must have been when you 
 could leave home and friends in the manner you have 
 done, leaving them to mourn you as dead! Why did 
 you not trust me, child? Why did you not come to 
 me in your terrible trouble ? Did you think that I 
 should be the first to cast a stone? Did you think 
 that I should have turned my back upon you because 
 you had been so cruelly betrayed ?” 
 
 The kindness, the gentleness, the tenderness were 
 wringing Carroll's heart as no reproaches could ever 
 have done. Violent sobs were rising in her throat. 
 The anguish in her eyes was horrible. 
 
 “Don't!” she cried. “I have borne all that I can, 
 and you are breaking my heart. If I have sinned, 
 God knows that I have expiated by suffering, for 
 there are no words to tell what I have endured; but if 
 you have any pity, for the love of Heaven, leave me 
 as dead to the world as I now am! Don't make all 
 the sacrifice of my life useless! Promise me that you 
 will tell no one—no one at all—that you have seen 
 me! Oh, in pity promise!” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 121 
 
 “But your mother, Carroll? Have you no thought 
 of her?” 
 
 “It is for her sake that I ask it. I am better dead 
 than that my shame should become public. She could 
 not bear it. She is proud—terribly proud. It would 
 kill her to know that I—have become a—mother be¬ 
 fore I am a—wife!” 
 
 j The sentence was barely audible, and Miss Kingman 
 shivered. 
 
 “Oh, Carroll! Carroll!” she moaned. 
 
 “Hush! For God’s sake, have pity upon me! Give 
 me the child and let me go. Of all the anguish 1 
 have endured, this is the worst. Tell me, is she well? 
 Has she become reconciled?” 
 
 “No, nor never will.” 
 
 “You see her sometimes, do you not? You are kind 
 to her as in the old days?” 
 
 “Often. I try to be almost a daughter to her. 
 And, Carroll, she has one who is almost a son—who 
 thinks of her first and cares for her. She has grown 
 to love him, and to call upon him in her extremities. 
 She may be proud—almost hard to some—but she 
 never is so to him. He has been so kind, so generous, 
 so thoughtful, dear. Have you no word for him? 
 Is it your wish that he, too, should think you dead? 
 Carroll—” 
 
 | What it cost the noble woman to speak those words 
 no pen could tell. Her heart ached with a poignancy 
 that went beyond expression, but the break in her 
 speech was occasioned by the low, throbbing cry that 
 issued from the white lips of her listener. 
 
 “For the love of God, spare me!” she gasped. “You 
 can not desire to add torture to my suffering? Can’t 
 
322 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 you see that every word you utter is the most cruel 
 stab? Can’t you see that it enters my heart like a 
 knife? If you would do me the only kindness that 
 lies in your power, say no more. Give me my helpless 
 child and let me go out of your life forever. Speak 
 of me to no one. Promise me that you will do that. 
 Miss Kingman, in the name of pity!” 
 
 “I promise.” 
 
 “God bless you!” 
 
 Something of the horror faded from the beautiful 
 eyes. The white lips trembled; great, scalding tears 
 poured over the ghastly face. She stretched forth her 
 arms and took the baby from her friend, hugging it 
 closely to her own desolate breast. 
 
 “Good-bye,” she whispered, hoarsely, “and forget 
 me as quickly as you can.” 
 
 “You mean that you will not let me see you, Car-< 
 roll?” 
 
 “It would be better not. Don’t think me ungrate¬ 
 ful. Forgive me and let it be farewell forever!” 
 
 She looked into the face of her old-time friend 
 once, longingly, hungrily, then staggered away with¬ 
 out a backward glance, the old battle to be fought 
 again, the old struggle renewed a thousand-fold. 
 
 Miss Kingman looked after her. 
 
 “Poor child!” she muttered. “Plow she suffers? 
 She was innocent, helpless, and she loved. Is not the 
 punishment too great? Ah! surely, it is not right 
 that I should yield to her supplication. It may be 
 better that she should remain dead to the others, but 
 at least I have not the moral right to abandon her, 
 even at her wish. I will know where she goes. I will 
 give her time to recover from the first shock of know¬ 
 ing that I have discovered her_shame, and then I will 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 123 
 
 gC to her again. She will let me help her—I know 
 she will. And at least I shall have the consolation of 
 knowing that she is not unprovided for. How poor 
 and miserable she looks! poor, helpless, suffering 
 ; child !” 
 
 | Still continuing her reflections of sympathy, which 
 were not unmixed with a feeling of gratitude that 
 Ballard Hilliard had had nothing to do with the grief 
 that had come into the young life, she followed Car- 
 roll at a safe distance until she had entered the home 
 the kind-hearted nurse had suggested, then very 
 slowly she went home. 
 
 During the remainder of the afternoon she could 
 not recover from the shock that the encounter had 
 given her. She wanted to see Carroll again; she 
 wanted to make some change for the better in that 
 afflicted life; and, unable to bear it any longer, she 
 turned after dinner to the son of her hostess, and 
 said: 
 
 “Russell, may I not ask a favor of you? I met an 
 old acquaintance in the street to-day. She was very 
 poor, very forlorn, and I can not get her out of my 
 mind. I want to see her again, and I want you to 
 take me to her door, and wait until I come out. Is it 
 asking too much? Shall it be too great a bore?” 
 
 “Not at all,” he answered, rising at once to do her 
 bidding. 
 
 And together they went out to that humble street 
 where Miss Kingman knew that Carroll lived. 
 
 She had carefully jotted down the number in her 
 memory, arid as they approached the house—a small, 
 ramshackle frame dwelling—Miss Kingman involun¬ 
 tarily glanced in at one of the windows. Russell Shan¬ 
 non followed the direction of her eye. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 124 
 
 There were no shades at the window, or, if the:* 
 were, they were not drawn; and inside the room they 
 distinctly saw Carroll standing before a man whose 
 back was t® them. She was smiling into his face, 
 .with an expression that was easily mistakable. His 
 head was bent over the baby that lay in his arms, as 
 his mustached lips pressed a light kiss upon the tiny 
 month. i 
 
 f 
 
 Miss Kingman was startled by a groan. 
 
 She glanced hurriedly at the man at her side. He 
 was white as death and rigid as iron. She grasped 
 his arm with almost frantic haste. 
 
 “Come,” she exclaimed. “Let us go quickly! Mer¬ 
 ciful Heaven! it is worse than I had dreamed. It 
 would have been much better if she had really died- * 
 much better!” 
 
 Chapter XX. 
 
 Grasping the arm of Russell Shannon spasmodi¬ 
 cally* Geraldine Kingman almost forced him from the 
 contemplation of that scene that had well-nigh robbed 
 him of his power of thought. 
 
 His mother had not been overtruthful in her ac¬ 
 count to him of Carroll’s manner of leaving her house, 
 telling him—which was strickly true in one sense— 
 that she did not know where Carroll was going, but 
 leaving him to infer that she had done all that lay 
 in her power to persuade the girl to remain beneath 
 her roof. It was, therefore, a shock from which he 
 could not quite recover when he saw the girl whom 
 he had believed to be peculiarly friendless, alone in 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 125 
 
 her room at night with a man who held her child, and 
 into whose face she looked with such affection and 
 confidence. 
 
 i He did not speak during their homeward walk:, 
 and it was not until they again stood in the center of 
 his mother's drawing-room that he turned to Gerald 
 dine. 
 
 j His face was white and rigid, the lines about his 
 mouth drawn and distorted. She would scarcely have 
 recognized the voice in which he spoke to her. 
 
 “Will you tell me where you knew that young 
 .woman ?” he asked, as quietly as he could force him¬ 
 self to speak. 
 
 v - “I have known her for years in New York, where 
 she lived.” 
 
 “And—and that man with her. Who was he?” 
 
 ■ “I don't know. I never saw him before.” 
 
 “Will you tell me what you can of her history?” 
 
 “I have known her, as I tell you, for years, and 
 yet there is very little further that I can tell you. I 
 have always been interested in her, perhaps because 
 of her singular beauty, but I also knew her father, 
 who was an artist, and her mother, too, though poor, 
 was one of the most perfect ladies I have ever seem 
 They were very, very much impoverished at the deathE 
 of her father, but I always believed Garroll to be one 
 of the purest girls.” 
 
 ' “Carroll?” 
 
 “That is her name.” 
 
 “Go on, please.” 
 
 “Her mother was in delicate health, and Carroll 
 worked early and late like a slave to take care of 
 her. Their devotion, to each o&er was sometbjjq^ 
 
126 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 beautiful to witness. There was a gentleman in New, 
 York, rich, handsome, and of good family, who loved 
 Carroll, and would have married her, but she did not 
 care for him. No one suspected that there was any; 
 one who had won her heart. I am sure that her 
 mother did not, and I, who was her nearest friend, 
 did not. Then one day she disappeared. It was the 
 night of the terrible storm, when the Hudson River 
 disaster occurred. All night we searched for her, not 
 knowing what had happened and dreading the worst. 
 The next morning we read in the paper that she was 
 among the killed in that frightful wreck. We buried 
 a body that we believed to be hers, and mourned her, 
 as dead. To-day I met her upon the street—with a 
 child in her arms!” 
 
 The voice ceased. Russell Shannon had already; 
 dropped upon a chair and covered his ghastly face 
 with his hands. Until that moment he had scarcely 
 suspected himself how dear Carroll had become to 
 him. Miss Kingman was looking down upon him in 
 pity and amazement. She stood silent for some mo¬ 
 ments, then she placed her hand gently, timidly upon 
 his shoulder. 
 
 “What have I done in taking you there?” she ques¬ 
 tioned, sadly. “I did not know that you had ever met 
 before.” 
 
 His hands dropped. She never forgot the counte¬ 
 nance that was lifted to her own. 
 
 “How could you have known?” he said, hoarsely. 
 “Forgive me if I have added to your distress. There 
 is just one question that I should like to ask: Are 
 you sure that she was never married?” 
 
 my knowledge she never was; but recent events 
 
 'my 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 127j 
 
 r 
 
 Have proven how little I know. .Will you not tell me, 
 Russell, what Carroll is to you ?” 
 
 1. “Nothing but the lost love of my life. She might 
 have been my wife had she so desired!” 
 
 4 “Great heavens!” 
 
 f “Is it so strange? Ah, she is young, scarcely more 
 than a child, and she is pure! She knows nothing 
 else, could be nothing else! There is some horrible 
 secret that I shall make it my business to discover. 
 She is friendless, helpless, and in spite of her misfor¬ 
 tune, I love her still. I shall find out this thing that 
 has ruined her beautiful young existence, and then 
 the scoundrel that has betrayed her shall pay for it 
 with his cowardly life!” 
 
 ; He had risen, his face working with excitement. 
 
 I “Hush!” exclaimed Miss Kingman, her eyes lu¬ 
 minous with fear. “You must not talk like that! Re¬ 
 member you have other interests in life. There is 
 your mother!” 
 
 “It is because I remember her that I am deter¬ 
 mined that justice shall be done! It is because I have 
 some regard left for purity and innocence that I am 
 determined that this scoundrel shall pay the penalty 
 of his dastardly crime. Do you think the fault was 
 hers ? I tell you that I know her, and that she is pure 
 as Heaven!” 
 
 • He picked up his hat as he ceased speaking, a hid¬ 
 eous determination expressed in his eyes. 
 
 Miss Kingman sprang forward and placed her hand 
 upon his arm detainingly. 
 
 “Where are you going?” she gasped. 
 
 “Back there!” 
 
 “For what?” 
 
128 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “ To find that villain !-” 
 
 “ But you may be mistaken.” 
 
 “I am not I I felt it as I looked at him. He shall 
 make her an honest woman, and then—God help him 
 if he attempts to injure her further!” 
 
 “You don’t know what you are doing! You must 
 not go there in this condition.” 
 
 “And yet I tell you that I will!” 
 
 “But think, Russell! Give yourself time. If what 
 you fear is true, you will have ample time—” 
 
 “There is no time like the present.” 
 
 “But you must not go there! If you insist, then I 
 shall accompany you.” 
 
 “That is foolish!” 
 
 “No more so than your act. Give it up. Wait 
 until to-morrow; then call upon Carroll while she is 
 alone, if you will.” 
 
 “She would refuse to see me, and even if she should 
 not, she would still conceal the identity of the rascal 
 from me. She is alone in the world, and friendless. 
 Ah, Jerry, you don’t know what you are talking 
 about! Place yourself in her position. Undoubtedly; 
 she loves him and will protect him at the risk of her 
 own good name or even life itself. Do you think I 
 did not see when she was here beneath our roof, as 
 she was for several months, how she suffered? Do 
 you think I did not know how tired she was of life? 
 1 think that is the first thing that ever turned rny heart 
 to her. I saw the struggle that she was making. Not 
 that I suspected what it was. I thought she had lost 
 her husband and that she was grieving for him, and 
 ah, God! how I pitied her! But I see it all now. Poor, 
 hdoless, innocent child! And yet you tell me that 1 
 
I UTTLE PRINCESS 129 
 
 must see her betrayer escape me, and make no effort 
 to prevent it? Never!” 
 
 “But what shall you do?” 
 
 “Go there! Meet him face to face! Wring the 
 truth from them both and then compel him to marry 
 her! That is what I shall do!” 
 
 “And if he refuses?” 
 
 “ Then—” 
 
 Shannon did not complete the sentence, but there 
 was an expression upon his face that made further 
 words unnecessary. Miss Kingman shivered, but her 
 terror did not prevent her from taking a sudden reso¬ 
 lution. 
 
 “You shall not go there in your present state of 
 mind, Russell,” she said, firmly. 
 
 “Who will prevent me?” 
 
 “I will!” 
 
 “You?” 
 
 “I!” 
 
 “How?” 
 
 “By entreating that you do not in the first place, 
 and if you still refuse to listen to the voice of reason 
 then I will have you locked up until you have re* 
 gained your senses.” 
 
 { “You will have me locked up?” I think not. What 
 do you mean?” 
 
 * “That 1 shall have you arrested! Listen to me, 
 Russell. A man that will do that horrible thing of 
 which you accuse that guest of Carroll's is a desperate 
 one. In your present state you have no reason what¬ 
 ever. You must wait until you are in a fit condition 
 to go there—or I shall prevent it at any cost l" 
 
130 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter XXI. 
 
 There was not a doubt in the mind of Russell Shan¬ 
 non but that Geraldine Kingman meant every word 
 to which she had given utterance. 
 
 There was a set determination in her face that was 
 not to be mistaken. He was firmly convinced that she 
 would go to any length to carry her point in her fear, | 
 for his safety, and because she believed herself in a 
 great measure responsible for it in that she had taken 
 him to that house. 
 
 There was, therefore, nothing that he could do but 
 sit down and bear as best he could that horrible feel¬ 
 ing that was as indescribable as it was hideous. Rus¬ 
 sell Shannon was every inch a man, and therefore 
 did not hesitate to acknowledge himself vanquished 
 by a woman. 
 
 He looked at her for a time in absolute silence, then 
 with a groan threw himself into a chair. ’■ 
 
 He knew that he must not, for Carroll’s sake as 
 well as his own, get that odious matter in the columns 
 of the newspapers, and any disturbance that Miss 
 Kingman might make would have but that result. ( 
 
 “You women are as hard as iron to each other,” ( 
 he said, doggedly. “You pretend to have loved this 
 child, and yet when I would right the wrong that has 
 been done her you put an obstacle in my way that I 
 can not surmount. - It is like the inconsistency of your, 
 sex.” 
 
 “You have not the right to say that!” cried Miss 
 Kingman, passionately. “There is no sacrifice that I 
 would not make if I could but wioe the shame from 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 131 
 
 Carroll Millbourne’s name—if I could but return her 
 to her mother as pure as we both believed her at the 
 time that she left her home; but in the state that you 
 now are, you would but make a bad matter worse. 
 Go to her to-morrow, if you will, say to her what you 
 desire, and act in the matter as you see fit, but I owe 
 it to your mother that I prevent your going there to¬ 
 night. You may think of me as hardly as you will, 
 but when this feeling has worn away, you will see 
 that I am right and you are wrong.” 
 
 There was not the slightest indication of weaken¬ 
 ing in her manner, and Shannon knew that the case 
 was hopeless. He saw that it was useless to try to 
 do anything with her, either by persuasion or other¬ 
 wise, and then by careful questioning he succeeded 
 in obtaining the most minute history of Carroll’s life, 
 save the part that related to Ballard Hilliard. That, 
 for both their sakes, Miss Kingman carefully con¬ 
 cealed. 
 
 , {When she left him it was too late for him to be 
 able to see either Carroll or the man who had been in 
 her room, and thinking to gain strength for the fol¬ 
 lowing day, he retired to his room, endeavoring to 
 sleep; but it was a useless undertaking. All night 
 he lay staring up at the ceiling, making plans and re¬ 
 jecting them, until when the morning came he seemed 
 further from a knowledge of what should be done in 
 the premises than upon the preceding night. 
 
 He felt sore toward Miss Kingman that she had 
 prevented his returning to that house, as under those 
 circumstances he would undoubtedly have discovered 
 the identity of the man who had occasioned that suf¬ 
 fering in the life of the woman whom he had loved. 
 
132 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 for, that the man he had seen was the one, he did 
 not even remotely doubt. Still he would act cautiously, 
 he told himself, and there would yet be ample oppor¬ 
 tunity. , 
 
 , He avoided any conversation with Miss Kingman 
 after breakfast that morning, though she was obvious¬ 
 ly most anxious to speak with him, but taking his hat 
 he walked out of the house with bent head, walking 
 in the direction of the little dwelling where he had 
 received such a mental blow the night before. 
 
 1 There was a wretched strip of ragged curtain shad¬ 
 ing the window upon that occasion, but the alteration 
 did not blind him to the fact that the house was the 
 same. 
 
 The expression of his face was most peculiar as he 
 paused before seeking admission. There was dogged 
 determination in every line, but there was also a death¬ 
 less pain, a sense of intense disappointment that the 
 woman who had won from him his very soul was un¬ 
 worthy of the gift; for let the misfortune that sur¬ 
 rounded her be great as it would, she had grossly de¬ 
 ceived both him and his mother, who had been her 
 friend. Yet that did not alter his resolution to do for 
 her all that lay his power. 
 
 > He saw now clearly the necessity for careful-! 
 ness upon his part, and something almost like grati¬ 
 tude to Miss Kingman came to him for the action that 
 she had taken upon the night before. 
 
 ' He pulled a knob upon the door. The unmusical 
 sound of a cracked bell was heard in the hall and a 
 little later the door was opened by a slatternly looking 
 girl. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 133 
 
 “ There is a lady here with a child/ 7 he said to the 
 girl, “ whom— 77 
 
 She did not give him time to complete his sentence. 
 
 “You mean Mrs. Mills?” she asked. 
 
 “Yes. May I see her?” 
 
 “Yes, sir. Will you walk in?” 
 
 Shannon hesitated but a moment. He had not been 
 exactly accustomed to being invited into a lady’s 
 room, as the manner of the girl plainly showed he was 
 to be then, without the lady’s permission; but as he 
 quickly reflected that Carroll might decline to see him 
 should he send his card, he concluded to conform to 
 the regulations of that class of society and do as was 
 indicated that he should. He therefore followed the 
 girl, who had already tapped upon the door of the 
 room that he knew to be the one occupied by Carroll. 
 
 A faint voice from within bade the applicant for 
 admission enter, and Shannon waited until he heard 
 the girl announce: 
 
 “A gentleman to see you, ma’am!” 
 
 Then without permission he stepped beside her 
 into the room and closed the door behind him. 
 
 The picture that greeted him caused the hot blood 
 to rise to his brow, and yet it was one that artists have 
 declared to be beautiful. It was that young mother 
 carefully, gently rocking the child who slept as she 
 held it to her bosom. There was a low exclamation 
 from the pallid lips of the unhappy girl, a moment 
 of paralyzed inactivity, then without a word she rose, 
 placed the sleeping child upon the bed, and turned to 
 her guest. 
 
 “Why have you submitted me to this humiliation?” 
 
134 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 she asked, m a quivering voice. “Don’t you think that 
 my suffering has been great enough already ?” 
 
 Every feeling but pity and love had died from his 
 breast. With that exquisite face before him he would 
 have given up life itself for her and to save her honor. 
 
 He took her hands tenderly, and looking down into 
 her eyes said, with an intensity that touched her to the 
 soul: 
 
 “Do you think you have the right to speak to me 
 like that ? Have I ever shown a desire toward you 
 save to lighten and brighten your life? Do you think 
 that I should have come here for any reason under 
 God’s heavens except a yearning to benefit you, to see 
 you happier? Oh, child, how little you have appre¬ 
 ciated my affection!” 
 
 Tears rose to her eyes. 
 
 “Forgive me!” she cried, contritely. “I think my 
 great suffering has made me mad sometimes. You 
 have never been anything but the kindest of friends 
 to me, and I have deserved it so little. Yet why have 
 you come?” 
 
 “To tell you that my love for you is unchanged{ 
 to beg of you—” 
 
 A flash of agony crossed her face. 
 
 “Oh, hush, I beg of you!” she exclaimed, dully* 
 “You are only making it a thousand times harder fof 
 me! You don’t understand! If you but knew the 
 thing I am, you would despise me. Don’t force me to 
 tell you the story that would burn my tongue to speak. 
 Love can never be anything but a curse to me!” 
 
 “It is you who do not understand,” he exclaimed, 
 leading her to a rickety chair and leaning over her as 
 his tender hand smoothed her hair. “Dear, would 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 13i> 
 
 it pain you to know that I have heard the story of 
 your life?” 
 
 She started up with a little panting gasp. 
 
 " What I” she whispered, her eyes darkening with 
 shame. 
 
 \ "Oh, little one, why did you not trust me long ago? 
 
 ; [Why could you not have told me the story of your 
 betrayed life? Did you think me so little of a man 
 > that I would not have helped you ? Did you think me 
 so small of soul that I should not have understood 
 your temptation and pitied you? Did you not know 
 that, loving you as I did, I should have forced the 
 contemptible scoundrel who did this great wrong, to 
 right it so far as lay in his power?” 
 
 Her head had sunk forward upon her breast, and 
 5dry, tearless sobs were shaking her slender frame. 
 Russell Shannon knelt beside her. She was speaking 
 to him, but in a tone so low that he could scarcely 
 catch the utterance. 
 
 "Who has told you this?” she asked, dully. 
 
 "One who loves you very dearly. She did not 
 tell me except to benefit you. It was Miss Geraldine 
 Kingman.” 
 
 Carroll shivered. 
 
 "What did she tell you?” 
 
 "The whole story of your wrecked life.” 
 
 "Did she—name the person who—” 
 
 "No, because she did not know. But you will tell 
 me that, Carrolk—you will tell me the truth, will you 
 not, dear? I shall act only as your brother would Jo- 
 had you one.” 
 
 "And that is—?” 
 
 r< You are too good to be the wife of such a man, 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 but it is the only way to save your good name and that 
 of your child. I will compel him to marry you.” 
 
 She rose slowly, every particle of life seeming sud¬ 
 denly to have forsaken her. Her face was cold as 
 death. She stood there before him, rigid as iron. 
 
 “I see you have not heard all the truth,” she said, 
 slowly. “It was I who refused to marry the man who 
 loved me. I beg of you to keep this to yourself. I 
 entreat that you tell it to no one, not even Miss King- 
 man, who has been the kindest friend I ever knew; 
 but it is quite true. Now leave me to my fate!” 
 
 Russell Shannon rose from his knees. He looked 
 helplessly at her for a moment, then said: 
 
 “I see. You are trying to shield the scoundrel; but 
 I will discover him, and—” 
 
 It was useless to complete the sentence. The ex¬ 
 pression of his countenance was sufficient. 
 
 Chapter XXII. 
 
 Carroll was too much stunned to observe the threat¬ 
 ening countenance, even had Russell Shannon not 
 turned his face from her. 
 
 It seemed to her that the past two days had been 
 the very hardest ones to bear in all her sorely tried 
 life. She was peculiarly alive to the terrible wrong 
 that had been done her child, and that, coupled with 
 the awful agony of shame that she had been forced 
 to endure, was almost more than she could bear. The 
 wonder to her was that her reason remained; but it 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 13?1 
 
 seemed only a part of her punishment that it should 
 be so. 
 
 She had not even heard Shannon’s words, and 
 seemed intensely surprised when a few minutes after¬ 
 ward he touched her hand. 
 
 “Good-bye, Carroll,” he said sorrowfully. 
 
 “I thought you had gone,” she returned, wearily. 
 
 The unintentional cruelty of the remark cut him to 
 the quick, but he understood how she was suffering 
 lo cause her to forget that, and the pain in his eyes 
 deepened. 
 
 “I am going now,” he said, gently. “It is your 
 ivish that I should go, is it not?” 
 
 “Yes—oh, yes!” 
 
 “And yet you know that I am eternally your friend. 
 You know that there is nothing that could ever change 
 that, do you not ?” 
 
 “You are better than I deserve—a thousand times. 
 It would be best for you if you could forget me.” 
 
 “But I don’t wish to do that. You surely will not 
 deny that you need my friendship; therefore you will 
 let me come to see you sometimes, will you not?” 
 
 “Your mother would not wish it.” 
 
 “Then she would be a very cruel woman. I swear 
 to you, dear, that if you will let me come sometimes 
 that I will never speak to you of my love. I swear 
 that I remember only that you are my very dear 
 sister. You would not desire to prevent that, would 
 you, Carroll ?” 
 
 How lonely and helpless and friendless she felt un¬ 
 der the touch of his kindness. A great sympathy for 
 herself and her own wretched fate seemed to fill her 
 heart. Again the tears rose to her eyes. She was 
 
138 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 pitying herself as if she were some other whose mis¬ 
 ery appealed to her. 
 
 “You are so good to me!” she cried, clasping his 
 hand closely. “Why do you not despise and loathe me 
 me as all the world would do if it but knew? Ah, 
 yes! Come to me! Help me to bear this frightful 
 weariness—this sickening misery, and surely God will 
 bless you. Only promise me that you will never men¬ 
 tion the past! That is the one thing that I can not 
 endure!” 
 
 “But some time, when you are stronger, you will 
 tell me the whole story, will you not?” 
 
 “Perhaps; but not now. Some day, when I know 
 that it is all ended—when I am sure that the wretch¬ 
 edness had done its deadly work, and that I am dying, 
 then I shall send for you and tell you, that you may 
 tell the story to her, my little Princess, and entreat her. 
 to forgive her most unhappy mother. You will do 
 that ?” 
 
 She was looking appealingly in his face, and Shan¬ 
 non controlled his grinding teeth sufficiently to an¬ 
 swer, softly: 
 
 “You may trust me.” 
 
 But in his heart he was saying: 
 
 “Long before that time shall have come, I shall 
 have avenged you, my poor, suffering darling. You 
 think you can hide the identity of that scoundrel from 
 me, but my love for you and hatred for him will find 
 him out.” 
 
 She gratefully pressed the hand she held. 
 
 “And you will not tell Miss Kingman what I have 
 said?” she asked, almost in a whisper. 
 
 “I shall tell no one anything that you may say.” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 139 
 
 “Thank you a thousand times! Oh, Mr. Shannon, 
 how good it would have been if only God had given 
 me a pure life, that I might have been your wife!” 
 
 His face flushed darkly. Great cords grew in his 
 neck and a flame of blood seemed to flash into his 
 eyes. For a moment she was frightened at the fierce¬ 
 ness of his expression, and as if he feared himself, he 
 tuined suddenly and almost fled through the door, 
 pausing not to say a single word of farewell. 
 
 She stared after him for a moment in astonished 
 silence, then flung herself upon the floor before the 
 rickety chair, and, burying her face upon her arms, 
 burst into a flood of tears such as she had not known 
 in many days. 
 
 Shannon, meanwhile, had rushed into the street. 
 The cold air soothingly touched his hot brow, but did 
 not calm the fever that raged within him. For the 
 first time he suspected that if it had not been for that 
 JJdeous shadow upon her life, Carroll would have been 
 his wife, happy, innocent, and beloved. It did not 
 tend to lessen his rage against the man whom he now 
 considered to have robbed him as well as destroyed 
 the peace and purity of the woman whom he adored. 
 
 The interview had but tended to show him how im^ 
 possible is was for him ever to forget his great love 
 for the one woman in his life who had ever touched 
 his heart, and his anger increased in proportion. His 
 hand clinched savagely as he remembered that his 
 rival had been in that little, meager room the night 
 before, and a great rage filled his breast as he remem¬ 
 bered that but for Miss Kingman he should have 
 known who he was r and so not have been balked cS 
 his revenge. 
 
14(5 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “But he will go there again!” he told himself, sav¬ 
 agely. “He will go there to see her, and I shall watch 
 night and day that I may discover his identity. Then 
 when I have done it, let him look out for himself! 
 It will be his life or mine should he refuse to do her. 
 the justice that her innate purity demands.” 
 
 Very few of his friends would have recognized Rus¬ 
 sell Shannon in the haggard man who walked so rap¬ 
 idly through the poor quarter of the city. His eyes 
 were blood-shot, his white lips compressed. He felt 
 in no condition to go to his home, but roamed about 
 the city, striving to fix upon some plan by which he 
 could be sure of capturing his man. 
 
 “She will never acknowledge the truth,” he told 
 himself. “She will deny to the bitter end that I am 
 right when once he is nailed; but I must not give her 
 the opportunity. I could not have been mistaken in 
 the expression of her face as that wretch stood before 
 her. She has no friends here, and yet he kissed her 
 child—her child whose face even I, who love her so, 
 did not see. I should know his cursed back again if 
 I should see it across the earth. There is no danger 
 but that I shall recognize him, and then—” 
 
 Until thoroughly exhausted in mind and body he 
 walked, half conscious that he had neither eaten nor 
 slept since the night previous; then he went home. 
 
 Miss Kingman was at the window when he mounted 
 the stoop and opened the door with his latch-key. 
 She met him in the hall. His expression frightened 
 her. 
 
 “Where have you been, Russell?” she asked, hastily. 
 
 \T hardly know,” he answered, dully. “Every* 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 141 
 
 “You have seen Carroll?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “Won’t you come in here and tell me what she 
 said?” 
 
 “There is nothing to tell that we did not both 
 know before. She would say nothing.” 
 
 “And have you seen—no one else?” 
 
 “No one,” he answered, briefly. 
 
 “I called there to-day.” 
 
 “Did you?” 
 
 “She was out, or sent me word that she was. She 
 did not say anything about moving, did she?” 
 
 Shannon started. 
 
 “No,” he answered. “Do you think she has done 
 that?” 
 
 “I thought perhaps she might have, as she was 
 evidently anxious to avoid us.” 
 
 “Good heavens! I never thought of that. What 
 a fool I have been! I shall never forgive myself if I 
 have lost sight of her through any carelessness of 
 mine.” 1 
 
 “Don’t think of it now, dear. You are tired and 
 need rest. I can’t tell you how you have changed 
 since last night.” 
 
 | He smiled faintly. 
 
 I “Not mere than I have within the last few months. 
 I am going to my room now. Make some excuse to 
 my mother, Jerry, and don’t let her miss me, will 
 you ?” 
 
 “I will try.” 
 
 She put out her hand and touched his sympathet¬ 
 ically. He went hurriedly to his room, but her ques¬ 
 tion as to whether he thought it possible for Carroll 
 
142 
 
 A LITTLE PRINOESS 
 
 to have moved prevented the rest of which he stood 
 so greatly in need. 
 
 He threw himself upon the bed, but burning 
 thoughts put an end to rest, and unable to endure, it 
 he rose, changed his clothes, and once more went out] 
 into the street. It was about dusk, and people were; 
 coming home from their daily routine of business ; but ( 
 he saw nothing. 
 
 > He had determined that he must go to that house 
 where he had seen Carroll to ascertain if she were 
 still there, and bent upon that he thought of nothing 
 else. 
 
 He walked rapidly with bent head, but seemed in¬ 
 stinctively to know when the street was reached. He 
 turned into it and glanced up at the number. 
 
 As he did so he saw a man who had evidently but 
 (just passed from the house, pause to light his cigar. 
 ,The back was to him, and with a gasp almost of hor¬ 
 ror Russell Shannon recognized the man of the night 
 previous who had been the guest in Carroll’s room. . 
 
 For a moment he stood as if petrified, then he 
 strode hastily forward, every drop of blood in his 
 body seemingly on fire. t 
 
 He caught the man by the shoulder and whirled 
 him quickly around, then fell back with a low cry of 
 rage and almost fear. 
 
 ! “Harry Winter!” he ejaculated. “Good God, no! 
 It can not be!” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 143 
 
 Chapter XXIII. 
 
 The two men stood staring into each other’s faces* 
 speechless, Russell Shannon in horrified consternation, 
 Harry Winter in simple astonishment. The latter was 
 Ithe first to recover himself. 
 
 I “What in Heaven’s name is the matter with you, 
 “man ?” he demanded, with an expression somewhat be¬ 
 tween amusement and anger. “Have you gone sud¬ 
 denly mad? Is that the latest fashion in greeting an 
 acquaintance ?” ( 
 
 The sound of the voice seemed to arouse Shannon 
 from the apathy that had fallen upon him. A frown 
 contracted his brow. * *i 
 
 This, then, was the man whom he had seen in the 
 room of Carroll Melbourne the night before; this was 
 the man whose lips he had seen touch the mouth of 
 her infant child; this was the man into whose face 
 she was smiling as she had never smiled into his own, 
 and this was the man whom he had believed to be the 
 perfection of virtue in manhood—the Christian in 
 whom he had believed and whom he trusted, 
 j It never occurred to him that there could be any 
 mistake on the subject. It never does to a convinced 
 man, no matter how little reason there may be in his 
 conviction. 
 
 5 And Harry Winter was his friend. 
 
 But he had forgotten that fact. He saw in him 
 only the wretch who had destroyed the innocence and 
 happiness of the woman whom he loved. 
 
 He bit his lip hard to control his fierce wrath, the3 
 in a voice of concentrated rage, ne said: 
 
244 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “The street is scarcely the place for our conversa¬ 
 tion. I have that to say to you which can not be said 
 there. Where shall we go?” 
 
 Winter bowed. He understood perfectly that some 
 dreadful thing had occurred, but there was yet an 
 element of fear to be implanted in his nature. His 
 pride was up in arms, and it was a nature filled to 
 the brim with pride. 
 
 “My club is just around the corner,” he said, slowly. 
 
 Shannon flushed. That was another point of evi¬ 
 dence against him, if another had been needed. 
 
 “We can discuss the matter no better there than 
 here,” he said, coldly. 
 
 “Then perhaps my room will answer your purpose. 
 If not, name a place yourself and I will meet you 
 there.” 
 
 “Your room will do. It is nearer than mine.” 
 
 Winter bowed again. He turned without a word, 
 and in silence the two walked in the direction of his 
 room. When they had reached it, Winter turned up 
 the gas, then faced his one-time friend silently, but 
 With inquiry written upon his face. 
 
 Shannon had had time in which to recover himself, 
 tfnd make some plan of attack. He had concluded 
 tihat to make an immediate stand might be injurious to 
 the cause of the woman whom he desired to cham¬ 
 pion, and therefore the better plan might be to try, 
 So conciliate. 
 
 “Harry,” he said, almost gently, “you and I have 
 been friends for years. You were the husband of my 
 sister who is dead. We have loved each other in the 
 past as few brothers have loved. You have professed 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 145 
 
 that your life and heart have been given up to religion, 
 and I have believed you. You are one of the few; 
 men whom I have trusted with more than my life. 
 It is very hard to be disappointed in you.” 
 
 Winter was more astonished than ever. Some fear, 
 was manifest for his friend's sanity, but it was ex¬ 
 pressed simply in his face and not by words. 
 
 “In what have I disappointed you?” he asked, 
 quietly. 
 
 “In the greatest of all things.” 
 
 “I never professed to be a saint.” 
 
 A flush of anger darkened Shannon's countenanceo 
 
 “No,” he replied, “but you did profess to be a 
 Christian, and even had you not, your very manhood, 
 to take nothing else into consideration, should have 
 kept you from the diabolical act that you have com¬ 
 mitted.” 
 
 Winter’s face paled. 
 
 “Of what is it that you accuse me?” he demanded, 
 icily. 
 
 “It is utterly useless to pretend an ignorance that 
 is a disgrace to you. You have already done enough. 
 For God's sake, be man enough to stand by it and face 
 the future.” 
 
 “I honestly think you have gone mad, Russell. 
 Tell me in plain English what is it that you mean? 
 I am neither afraid to face the knowledge nor the 
 consequences of any act of mine. What have I 
 done ?” 
 
 “You know but too well. I refer to that poor un¬ 
 happy child whose rooms you left as I met yovj y 
 
 “You mean Mrs. Mills?** 
 
146 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Winter’s countenance was a study. 
 
 "Yes.” 
 
 “And why should I not call there if I wish?” 
 
 Shannon took a step forward, his hand clinched 
 closely; then he reconsidered and fell back almost 
 fainting. ? 
 
 “Is it possible that you can ask me a question like 
 that? Is it possible that you are so lost to all de¬ 
 cency that you can face me in that bold, daring way, 
 knowing that the whole, despicable, horrible truth is 
 known to me?” 
 
 “What are you talking about?” 
 
 “The girl whom you call Mrs. Mills is the only 
 woman whom I ever loved.” 
 
 “You surprise me; and yet I fail to see what that 
 has to do with me.” 
 
 “Good God, man! have you neither heart nor con¬ 
 science that you dare stand there and speak like that 
 of the great wrong that you have done me ? Don’t you 
 know that today she might have been my honored 
 wife but for the terrible curse that you have put upon 
 her life?” 
 
 “I?” 
 
 The astonishment in the tone was indescribable. 
 
 “You!” 
 
 There was a long silence between them, then very 
 quietly Winter asked: 
 
 “Who has told you this most remarkable story?” 
 
 “It is utterly useless for you to deny it. I know 
 it from a source that can not be controverted.” 
 
 “I have not the remotest intention of denying any¬ 
 thing.” answered Winter, haughtily. “You have come 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 14 7j 
 
 here accusing me of a crime, and attacking the reputa¬ 
 tion of an innocent woman. If I did not believe 
 you to be stark, staring mad, I think I should horse¬ 
 whip you.” 
 
 Even then Shannon could not see that those were 
 .the words of a guiltless man. He saw in them only 
 .the cover that a scoundrel uses to hide his dastardly 
 shame. He flushed dully, but again reflected that he 
 might best serve Carroll by calmness. 
 
 “It is utterly useless to assume that tone with me,” 
 jhe said, not quite able to conceal the scorn and in¬ 
 dignation he felt. “You see I know of what I am 
 speaking.’? 
 
 “Do you mean to tell me that Mrs. Mills told, you 
 this ?” 
 
 - “Oh, no! She loves the man who has destroyed her 
 peace too well for that. She would have concealed 
 your crime if the power had not been denied her. 
 She would have shielded you even at any cost to her 
 nameless child, but it was impossible. In the name of 
 Heaven, man, why have you done it? Surely she was 
 young and beautiful enough to have satisfied any one 
 iWhy could not, you have married her in the first place ? 
 But you will not refuse to do it now, Harry. Of that 
 *1 am sure!” 
 
 “Marry Mrs. Mills? I?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “Most certainly not!” 
 
 “And why?” 
 
 “For the very simplest reason in the world: I 
 don’t love her!” 
 
 “But, Harry, think how you have wronged her! 
 
148 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Think what her life must be if yon fail to make of 
 her an honest woman? Think—” 
 
 “Look here, Russell, I am tired of all this! If you 
 have not gone crazy I don’t know what is the matter, 
 with you. Once for all, stop it! You attack me in 
 the street in a manner that would warrant any man 
 in knocking you down; then you come to my room 
 and insult me with the most outrageous bit of slander 
 that was ever invented against any man. My patience 
 is exhausted. Because you are my brother-in-law I 
 have tried to bear with your wild words, but I am 
 tired of them. Now either leave my room or behave 
 yourself like a gentleman.” 
 
 Shannon’s breath came hard and fast. 
 
 “You dare say that to me!” he cried, hoarsely—, 
 “you dare! I came to you to try to make you see 
 your duty; I came to try to undo the great wrong 
 that you have done in the only way that an honorable 
 man can right a wrong like that, and an insult is the 
 reward I receive. I see now that I must treat you 
 as a gentleman must always treat a scoundrel. You 
 shall marry the woman whom you have wronged—you 
 shall give her child a name, or by Heaven you shall 
 answer to me for it!” 
 
 “In what way?” 
 
 “With your dastardly life!” 
 
 Winter laughed. 
 
 “Duels are out of fashion in these days,” he said, 
 coldly, “and even if they were not, I should still re¬ 
 fuse to fight you. There is no reason why I should. 
 I tell you that my patience is exhausted. Now, leave 
 my room or I will have you locked in a madhouse.” 
 
 “ Scoundrel l” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 143 
 
 The words came through the white lips simultane* 
 ously with a spring, and Shannon’s long, strong fingers 
 closed around Winter’s throat. 
 
 Chapter XXIV. 
 
 i ■ 
 
 j • 
 
 * There were roses upon the table in the sitting- 
 room that Mrs. Millbourne occupied, roses upon the 
 table and white hyacinths in a pretty jar close by; 
 whose fragrance filled the atmosphere delightfully. 
 The room was furnished in no wise different from 
 what it had been upon that afternoon that Carroll 
 had bidden it an eternal farewell, but there was some¬ 
 thing about it that gave it a degree of comfort, a 
 home-like appearance that it had not possessed at that 
 time. 
 
 Perhaps it was the flowers, but there were other 
 things also that Ballard Hilliard had provided—ferns 
 in the windows, a basket of fruit in the corner, and 
 little touches of brightness in that line that only wealth 
 can purchase, particularly at that season of the year, 
 
 Millicent Millbourne sat before a not overbrilliant 
 fire, toasting her toes and enjoying a delicious pear 
 from the plentiful supply. There was neither happi¬ 
 ness nor content in her expression, neither resignation 
 nor hope, but a certain helplessness that was infinitely; 
 appealing. 
 
 She turned her head slightly as a knock sounded up¬ 
 on the door, but rose, extending her hand with a faint 
 smile as she saw who her visitor was. 
 
150 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “Mr. Hilliard,” she exclaimed, with genuine pleas¬ 
 ure, “this is kind. I have no friend who remembers 
 me as you do. The basket of fruit came half an hour 
 ago. Won’t you help me to enjoy it?” 
 
 “Thank you,” he replied, selecting a few grapes. 
 “I was half afraid I should find you out this evening, 
 and as I had some particular business upon which I 
 ■wished to see you, and more especially as I am going 
 away to-morrow, I should have had to await your re¬ 
 turn.” 
 
 “You are going away to-morrow?” 
 
 “To bring Miss Kingman home.” 
 
 “Oh! I had forgotten her week is up. When is 
 your marriage to be, Mr. Hilliard?” 
 
 His face flushed. He had never become quite ac¬ 
 customed to hearing the mother of Carroll speak to 
 him so calmly of his marriage to another woman. 
 
 “I don’t know,” he answered, wearily. “Miss 
 Kingman seems in no hurry, and I don’t feel inclined 
 to push her beyond her desire.” 
 
 “Arid yet she loves you. Of that I am sure.” 
 
 “Yes,” stammered the young man. 
 
 “I shall be glad to see you married, because I think 
 you will both be happier. You are devoting too much 
 time to your work. You won’t mind my speaking 
 to you in this way, will you?—because I am old 
 enough to be your mother, you know. And then you 
 have given me your friendship of your own accord. 
 It is very dear to me, Mr. Hilliard.” 
 
 He took her hand and pressed it tenderly. A 
 close observer might have seen that there were tears 
 in his ej'es. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 151 
 
 1 1 # 
 
 “I like to have you speak to me as if you were my 
 
 mother,” he said, very softly. “My own mother 
 died years ago you know, and I feel very forlorn and 
 lonely sometimes with no one to advise or counsel me. 
 1 wish you would speak to me sometimes as if I were 
 really your son. I wish you would try to feel toward 
 me as if I were.” 
 
 Mrs. Millbourne was still smiling, but so tremu¬ 
 lously that even Ballard knew that it was through a 
 mist of tears. ^ 
 
 “I think I do feel like that,” she replied, her voice 
 breaking over the simple words. “It was very good 
 of God to send me a son when he took my daughter. 
 X can scarcely understand yet the sympathy that has 
 been established between us, Mr. Hilliard,” 
 
 He had sat down. Wearily, miserably he rested 
 bis elbow upon his knee and concealed his face in his 
 hand. 
 
 “Those are things which one never understands,” 
 he answered. 
 
 She looked at him curiously. 
 
 “But in our case it was most singular, I am old, 
 you are young; I am poor, you are one of the favored 
 of the gods; I am miserable, and you are happy —” 
 
 | “Happy!” 
 
 p| He had articulated the word before he was aware 
 of it, and in a way that would have told his pitiful 
 story to the most careless. 
 
 She put out her hand as he would have risen, and 
 placed ^t upon his shoulder. 
 
 “Mr, Hilliard—Ballard!” she exclaimed, earnestly, 
 “you said but now that you wished me to peak to 
 
152 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 you as if you really were my son. Forget for the 
 time, if you can, that you are not, and tell me what 
 it is that is troubling you. I have seen for some 
 time that you are not happy, but have been forced to 
 hold my tongue and say nothing; but it is glowing 
 upon you instead of lessening. You have everything 
 to make life blessed—wealth, fame, honor, the girl you 
 love— 75 
 
 She felt a shiver pass over him, and paused. 
 
 "Ballard,” she whispered, when she could beat- 
 the silence no longer, "what is it that you would have 
 me understand? It can’t be possible that you do— 
 not love—your—” 
 
 He rose suddenly, shaking off her hand as if its 
 touch hurt him. He leaned over and kissed her 
 cheek swiftly. 
 
 "There are some things of which even a dearest 
 mother must not speak to her son,” he said, hurriedly. 
 "This is one of them. Forget that we have spoken 
 upon the subject at all, dear Mrs. Millbourne. My 
 betrothed wife is a thousand times—ten thousand 
 times too good for me! If I but deserved the love 
 that she has given me I might be a happier man; but 
 I do not, and, God help me! I never shall.” 
 
 "My poor boy!” 
 
 She had risen and was standing with one of her 
 hands clasped in his, the other upon his shoulder. 
 
 "Hush!” he cried, a spasm of pain contracting his 
 features. "I tell you I can’t bear it! You don’t under¬ 
 stand—you never will—but my conscience is driving 
 me mad!” 
 
 "You do not love her, and yet you would marry he r 
 because she loves you. Is not that it, Ballard ?” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 153 
 
 He groaned. 
 
 “Don’t!” he cried, pleadingly. “I tell you I can't 
 bear it! Come, let me tell you,” lifting his hair from 
 his forehead, where great beads of perspiration stood. 
 
 ! “I came upon business, I told you. Do you remember 
 that I spoke to you of a friend of mine who is a pub¬ 
 lisher? He wants an article of Daudet’s translated. 
 Do you think you can do it ?” 
 
 She tried to pull herself back to the business groove 
 again, but her heart was very heavy. It required a 
 moment of reflection before she could quite compre¬ 
 hend what he had said; then she answered, wearily: 
 
 “Oh, yes! I don’t know. I have never done any¬ 
 thing of that kind; but I can try. Does it require 
 much skill?” 
 
 “Not any more than you possess. There is a great 
 field open for you if you succeed with this. There 
 will be no more drudgery, no more sewing until your 
 eyes are out and your health is broken. You will be 
 quite your own mistress, and in a line of life that will 
 suit you intellectually as well as physically. It will 
 not give you so much time to think of your own sor¬ 
 rows, because you will be immersed in those of others. 
 I have recommended you very highly to my friends, 
 and I hope you will try very hard for my sake. I am 
 greatly interested.” 
 
 “How good you are!” 
 
 “For the love of Heaven don’t say that of me! It 
 makes me feel the greatest scoundrel under the sun.” 
 
 “You are too sensitive. What friend have I ever 
 had who w^as to me what you are? Are you not my 
 son ?” 
 
154 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 His brow contracted. For a moment his teeth were 
 buried deeply in his lip; then he hurriedly held out 
 his hand. 
 
 “ Good-bye!” he exclaimed, hoarsely. 
 
 “Good-bye. Shall I get this manuscript when you 
 return ?” 
 
 “My friend will send it up to-morrow. I wish you 
 Would promise that at my next call you will read me 
 the first chapter.” 
 
 “You may be sure that I shall lose no time. God 
 bless you, my dear boy, and send you the happiness 
 that you deserve!” 
 
 He did not give her an opportunity of saying more, 
 but, lifting her hand to his lips, he pressed it there 
 for a moment, then dropped it and went hurriedly 
 from the room. 
 
 Poor Hilliard! It seemed to him that she was all 
 that he had left in life, and his sorely tried heart clung 
 to her as if she had indeed been his mother; yet his 
 conscience was terribly aroused as he remembered that 
 but for him her beloved daughter might have been be¬ 
 side her. He felt like a hypocrite, a scoundrel, and 
 yet he knew that without him, life would have been 
 hideously hard for her to bear. She seemed to lean 
 upon and cling to him, and he had been able to provide 
 her with a number of little comforts that had made 
 existence easier. 
 
 And how she appreciated his friendship! 
 
 “Dear boy!” she murmured as he left her. “What 
 an awful contemplation it is that life is so at sixes 
 and sevens with us all! I believe he loved Miss King- 
 man, yet I have seen for. some time that he was not 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 155 
 
 happy. He is too honorable to fail to keep his part 
 of the compact They have been engaged for years. 
 Poor boy! how I wish I could help him in his sorrow 
 as he has in mine! How I wish that I could be the 
 comfort to him that he has been to me! There is no 
 nobler man on all Gods earth than Ballard Hilliard V* 
 
 His sorrow touched her heart as nothing had had 
 power to do since that morning when he had brought 
 home the supposed body of her dear child, and think¬ 
 ing of that, she sat down at a little desk that the room 
 contained—a little thing of no value that had been 
 Carroll’s—and leaned her head upon her hand. Her, 
 other hand was pulling carelessly at a tiny piece of 
 wood that projected from the under part of one of the 
 drawers. 
 
 She was not conscious of her movements, but was 
 thinking deeply, when suddenly, to her astonishment, 
 a little aperture or drawer, of whose existence she was 
 unaware, opened. It rather startled her, arousing her 
 as it did so suddenly from her meditations. 
 
 She looked at it closely, then drew it out. 
 
 Behind it she saw a letter that had evidently slipped 
 over the back. She drew it out and held it in her 
 hand for many minutes before opening it. The envel¬ 
 ope was addressed to Ballard Hilliard in the hand¬ 
 writing of her daughter. 
 
156 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter XXV. 
 
 The atmosphere seemed to have grown dense and 
 murky about Millicent Millbourne. She breathed 
 with difficulty. She seemed to understand that an¬ 
 other crisis in her singularly unhappy life had been 
 
 reached. 
 
 She could not have defined her sensations nor put 
 her fears into words, but it appeared to her that some 
 message had been sent to her from the dead. A deadly 
 pallor settled upon her features. Her head reeled, and 
 with a sob she allowed her face to fall upon her arm 
 that rested upon the little desk. 
 
 What was it that she feared? 
 
 She could not have told if her very soul depended 
 upon it, yet there it was before her, this intangible 
 something, spectral but defiant. 
 
 She raised her head and turned the letter over in 
 her hand. The seal was unbroken. 
 
 Did Carroll think she had mailed the letter and 
 leave it there through forgetfulness? She could not 
 answer her own query. She was aware that Carroll 
 had known Ballard Hilliard, but not sufficiently well 
 to write to him. 
 
 And then, did not the letter belong to him? And 
 had she the right to read it? 
 
 At first it seemed to her that in honor she must 
 send it to him unread, and there was something like 
 relief in the thought. Then she remembered that per¬ 
 haps Carroll had reconsidered and did not v/ish it 
 sent. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 157 
 
 What should she do ? 
 
 Decidedly the course of honor was to throw the 
 letter into the fire unread. She approached the little 
 smoldering embers and more than once made the effort 
 to place the letter upon the fast-dying coals, but each 
 time her hand was withdrawn. 
 
 • r Why should she not read what her daughter had 
 written? she asked herself proudly, as if resenting the 
 insult that her own thought had offered. Did she 
 suspect her own pure child of writing words to any 
 man that she might not see? 
 
 A flush suffused her face at the thought. She com¬ 
 pressed her lips firmly, and with steady fingers tore the 
 end from the envelope. With great deliberation she 
 unfolded the letter. 
 
 Again there was a moment of hesitation. She turned 
 the lamp a trifle higher. Her eyes sought the sheet 
 of paper once more. 
 
 “For the last time, my own Ballard!” 
 
 That was what she read, and then the letter fell. 
 
 She never knew how long she stood there staring 
 into the dying embers. She never remembered after¬ 
 ward what her sensations were, but she was recalled 
 to herself by a terrible numbness in her limbs. With 
 a weariness that was like death she sunk into a chair, 
 then shuddered as she saw the letter lying there at 
 her feet. It seemed like a serpent that was stinging 
 her with its very presence. 
 
 Then suddenly some thought seemed to return fo 
 her paralyzed brain. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 158 
 
 “I an: a fool!” she cried out, harshly. "Of what 
 is it that I am accusing my dead one? I should 
 strangle the person that dared suggest that all was 
 not well with her, and yet here in my own mind I am 
 insulting her memory. There is some secret she was 
 too unhappy to tell even me, but I will find out now, 
 and then I will understand that poor boy’s misery 
 perhaps.” 
 
 She picked up the letter once more and eagerly be¬ 
 gan its persual. 
 
 l 
 
 1 “I know that I am doing wrong to write you, be-, 
 longing as you do to another, but surely God will 
 forgive me in that it is an eternal farwell that I shall 
 say—an eternal farwell to you and the happiness 
 that we both knew in the dear, dead past when we 
 belonged to each other alone, or I thought we did. I 
 am going away, dear—away on that long journey 
 that we must all take sooner or later, and it seemed 
 to me that it would be made easier by knowing that 
 1 had said a last word to you. I should go to see you 
 but I dare not trust myself. Oh, dearest heart, it is 
 bitterly hard! Don’t think that I blame you. I should 
 perhaps have done the same thing myself, for I know 
 that you loved me even as I loved you. That makes 
 the thought of the sin of the last few months more 
 bearable, for I know God will forgive me when I re* 
 member His words of that other Magdalene: She 
 sinned much in that she loved much.” 
 
 "Good God!” 
 
 The words fell from the poor mother’s lips with 
 a white-heat horror that was indescribable. A blind- 
 
159 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 tress had seized upon her. The letter was clutched 
 closely in her long, stony fingers. She was staring 
 at it dumbly, with wild, sightless eyes. Her form 
 was rigid, her face like marble. 
 
 She seemed to take no note of time. A bell in a 
 neighboring steeple struck the hour twice, but she had 
 not heard. If a single thought had come to lift the 
 awful horror that had settled upon her brain, her 
 countenance gave no indication of it. The letter was 
 still before her. A loud knock upon her door aroused 
 her. 
 
 Mechanically she rose, feeling stiff and sore, and, 
 Walking heavily across the floor, opened the door. 
 
 A messenger stood there with a letter and a package. 
 She took both, signed her name to the tiny paper he 
 carried, then closed the door. • Unconsciously she 
 opened the note and read: 
 
 “My Dear Mrs. Millbourne. —I found the pack¬ 
 age from my friend Delevan upon my return home. 
 As I leave by a very early train to-morrow, I con¬ 
 cluded that I would send it to-night. Let everything 
 else go and do your best upon this, as a future of fame 
 and wealth depends upon your success. 
 
 “God bless you! With fond affection, believe me, 
 Yours most sincerely, 
 
 “Ballard Hilliard.” 
 
 She crushed the offensive paper in her hand, her 
 teeth meeting each other in a crunching way, such 
 as one has heard from an angry animal. Her eyes 
 gave forth a sort of green flame. 
 
160 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 She flung the thing from her into the embers that 
 were dead now, her lips straight and stiff, but words 
 issuing from them. 
 
 “Curses upon you!” she cried, hoarsely. “Curses 
 upon you and yours forever and forever! You have 
 robbed me of my daughter and yet you dare to come 
 here to me with your words of sympathy and condo¬ 
 lence. You meet her heart-broken mother with a lie 
 upon your false lips—you who are her daughter’s 
 murderer. You think to ease your cursed conscience 
 by offering her desolate mother a means of earning a 
 livelihood. You think to deceive that other pure girl 
 who trusts you, but I swear that you shall not! Oh, 
 God! why in this land that prides itself upon its jus¬ 
 tice is there not some punishment for a wretch like 
 that?” 
 
 She paused for a moment with uplifted hand, then 
 memory returned to her of that last conversation she 
 had had with Carroll in that room. It all came back 
 word for word as it had been spoken, and a hideous 
 agony filled her countenance. Great tears poured over 
 the white face, and she fell upon her knees, lifting 
 her folded, trembling hands as if in supplication. 
 
 “My darling, my darling!” she whispered, hoarsely, 
 “could you not understand your mother’s heart? I 
 told you that death was preferable to disgrace, but I 
 did not mean it, dear. It might have been so in other 
 cases, but not for you, my love—not for you! Oh, 
 Carroll, come back to me! Come back, my darling! 
 I will be so tender, so true! Never a word of re¬ 
 proach shall pass my lips. Oh, God, have pity upon 
 me! Let me suffer anything—anything, only give me 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 161 
 
 back my child! It is too late! Too late! And I 
 drove her from me! I see it all now, so clearly, so 
 cruelly clear, Carroll, can you hear me up there in 
 heaven? Can you see how your poor mother suffers? 
 Do you understand that she did not mean what she 
 said to you, and that she would give her life—yes, her 
 very soul—if she could bring you back? Oh, my dar¬ 
 ling, my darling!” 
 
 She fell forward upon her face, sobbing—sobbing 
 in a way that no words can describe. 
 
 She lay there until the gray of the morning stole 
 through the windows, weeping and moaning, calling 
 upon her loved one for forgiveness, begging of God 
 that she might come to her desolate mother if for a 
 moment, but to speak one word of love and consola¬ 
 tion. Then as the morning came and reality told her 
 that what she asked was impossible, she rose and 
 looked about her. 
 
 Carroll’s letter was still in her hand, the French 
 novel lay upon the floor unwrapped, and Ball&rd Hill¬ 
 iard’s note was upon the gray ashes where she had 
 thrown it. A smile that was almost cruel came over 
 her features. Her eyes were upon it, and to it she 
 seemed to speak. 
 
 “I shall make you suffer,” she said, huskily, “even 
 as you have made her and me suffer. You think you 
 can escape the vengeance of a mother? We shall see! 
 I know where to strike you hardest, and as there is a 
 God, I will do it!” 
 
262 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter XXVI. 
 
 Geraldine Kingman was standing before the win¬ 
 dow in the drawing-room of the Shannon residence, 
 beating a tattoo upon the glass with the tips of her 
 slender fingers, but the slight noise had not the power, 
 to recall her wandering thoughts. 
 
 She was thinking of Carroll and of Ballard Hilliard, 
 thanking God half unconsciously that the man -whom 
 she loved was innocent of any wrong; thinking of 
 how eternally what she had discovered had separated 
 those two. 
 
 1 “Her own act has made marriage between them 
 impossible,” she said aloud, but still speaking to her¬ 
 self, “and the kindest thing I can do is to keep her 
 existence a secret. It would but bring disgrace upon 
 Sier mother and unhappiness to Ballard, and do Car- 
 roll no good. I hope I am not selfish in my decision 
 Heaven knows I want to act for the best, and I pray 
 to God that I am not influenced by my own desire!” 
 
 | Then she was silent for a time, and stood there 
 With knit brows, going all over the subject again, and 
 seeing less reason than ever why she should make it 
 Known that Carroll had not been killed in the railroad 
 ’disaster, and as she thought, she heard the bang of the 
 great front door. 
 
 t She turned her head and looked down the stoop. 
 
 It was Russell Shannon who was going out. 
 
 \ She could not exactly understand it, but there was 
 something in his very carriage that made her realize 
 that all was not well. She scarcely knew what it was 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 103 
 
 she feared; certainly she could have given no reason 
 why she should dog the footsteps of that man whom 
 she knew to be able to take care of himself; but 
 something, the conversation of the night before, per¬ 
 haps, made her uneasy. 
 
 Her heart gave a great bound, then seemed to stand 
 •itilk 
 
 She stood for a moment irresolute, then, without 
 pausing to consider her act, she ran upstairs, secured 
 her hat and wrap, and though it was growing dark, 
 she hurried out into the street alone, not even leaving 
 a message for her hostess. 
 
 It was growing dark, yet so quick had her move¬ 
 ments been that when she reached the street she dis¬ 
 tinctly saw the form of the man whom she wished to 
 put sue not far in advance of her. She did not quicken 
 hex steps to overtake him, but keeping him well in 
 sight, that she might not lose him by any sudden turn, 
 she followed after. 
 
 She readily recognized the fact that he was bending 
 his steps towards the house that they had visited to¬ 
 gether the night previous, and she determined that if 
 he called upon Carroll they would have their inter¬ 
 view together, for she keenly felt the responsibility; 
 that she had unintentionally assumed. 
 
 Still she did not join him, but kept up her position 
 in the rear. 
 
 She was a very few feet behind when he turned the 
 corner nearest to the little rickety building, her veil 
 drawn well across her face. She saw Harry Winter 
 as he emerged from the door-way before Shannon had 
 had time to lift his eyes, and a low cry escaped her. 
 
164 
 
 A LITTLE TRINCESS 
 
 She, too, had recognized the fact that he was the 
 same man whom they had seen in Carroll’s room, and 
 fche same conclusion was arrived at that had so dis¬ 
 turbed Shannon. 
 
 Her eyes turned upon Shannon. She understood 
 his feelings. She saw him spring forward. She 
 heard the exclamation of rage. She saw him whirl 
 {Winter about as if he had been but a ball, and then 
 she heard the cry that issued from his white lips as 
 Shannon recognized his friend and brother-in-law. | 
 
 She heard the conversation that followed and un¬ 
 derstood its import, yet she felt then that she, dared 
 not make her presence known, though Winter was an 
 old friend of hers. She shrunk back, an awful fear 
 tugging at her heart, for she had read aright the ex¬ 
 pression of Shannon’s face, and she knew that some 
 terrible scene was about to follow. 
 
 Her resolution was quickly taken. She would know 
 where they went and be ready to take action in the 
 event of its reaching the point she feared. 
 
 She flitted along behind them in the gathering 
 gloom, sometimes almost unable to keep up with their 
 long, swinging strides without running, but never los¬ 
 ing them for a moment. She saw them enter the 
 house where Winter lived. The door closed upon 
 them. 
 
 She paused for a second to consider, then boldly 
 mounted the steps. 
 
 “Is this a boarding-house?” she asked of the serv¬ 
 ant who answered her ring at the bell. 
 
 “No, madame. We let rooms.” 
 
 “May I see the person who keeps the house ?” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 165 
 
 “Yes, madame. Walk in, please.” 
 
 She entered the drawing-room and sat down. It 
 seemed to her an age before the lady of the house 
 made her appearance. She was growing too nervous 
 to have borne it longer, when the door opened and a 
 pleasant-faced woman entered. Miss Kingman heaved 
 a sigh of relief. 
 
 She rose and went straight up to her, knowing that 
 it was best to state her errand boldly. 
 
 “Madame,” she said, endeavoring to speak quietly, 
 but not succeeding very well, “I have come upon an 
 errand that may seem singular to you, and yet I im¬ 
 plore you to grant a request that I shall make.” 
 
 The woman looked interested. 
 
 “Won’t you be seated?” she asked, politely. 
 
 Miss Kingman shook her head, glancing nervously 
 in the direction of the door. 
 
 “No,” she answered. “There is not time. You 
 have a gentleman boarding with you—Doctor Harry 
 Winter ?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “He came in but a moment ago with another gen¬ 
 tleman. They have gone to Doctor Winter’s room. 
 Madame, I know you will think it a most extraor¬ 
 dinary request, but I want to ask your permission to 
 hear the conversation that passes between those two.” 
 » The woman drew back. 
 
 “Are you a detective?” 
 
 “No. It is my desire to avoid publicity instead of 
 seeking it. I have reason to believe that there will be 
 trouble between those two, and if it really comes to 
 that I wish to prevent it. I should prefer their not 
 
166 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 knowing the action that I have taken in the event o£ 
 there being no trouble between them, but I greatly; 
 iear that there will be some dreadful result from 
 this interview if you refuse.” 
 
 “I do confess that what you ask is most extraor¬ 
 dinary. Doctor Winter has been in my house for, 
 some time, and I have found him—” 
 
 “A gentleman always, but the greatest gentleman 
 upon earth will get into trouble sometimes. I am ser¬ 
 iously afraid that you will regret it if you refuse. 
 Come with me, if you will; then if you think I have 
 heard that to which I should not have listened, take 
 me before those two men when their conversation is 
 ended. But, first, you must agree that anything you 
 hear is to remain a secret.” 
 
 '“It is foolish to ask that, because you don’t know 
 whether I should keep my word or not, even under 
 any promise. My honor is sufficient without my word, 
 though I confess that it seems sadly compromised in 
 yielding to your request.” 
 
 “But you will not refuse?” 
 
 “I will not. You are a lady. We will trust each 
 other for once.” 
 
 She led the way, and the two entered a room ad¬ 
 joining that occupied by Doctor Winter and com¬ 
 municating by a door. Every word was distinctly 
 audible. 
 
 The landlady was convinced that she had not done 
 wrong in granting the request of her strange visitor 
 when she heard the words addressed by Doctor Win¬ 
 ter to his guest: 
 
 “Now either leave my room or behave yourself like 
 a gentleman.” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 16 % 
 
 We know what followed. 
 
 Shannon’s voice was lifted in anger. The woman 
 drew back, convulsively clutching the arm of her 
 guest. 
 
 “What are we to do?” she gasped. “They will fight 
 sure!” 
 
 Geraldine Kingman was white to the lips. Some¬ 
 thing in Doctor Winter’s manner had made her doubt 
 his guilt, though she scarcely confessed it even to 
 herself. The words of the lady beside her seemed a 
 positive relief. 
 
 “We must prevent that,” she said, hurriedly. “It 
 was fear of that which brought me here. Is there 
 any way through which we can get into that room ?” 
 
 “None if they have locked the door leading to the 
 hall. This one is fastened by a very heavy bolt on the 
 other side.” 
 
 Miss Kingman leaned forward and applied her eye 
 to the key-hole: She shrunk back with a cry of 
 alarm. 
 
 “My God!” she exclaimed, “There is not a moment 
 to be lost. Come!” 
 
 She dashed into the hall, followed closely by the 
 woman of the house, and flung open the door leading 
 to Harry Winter’s room. 
 
 Shannon’s fingers were clasping Winter’s throat. 
 
 “For the love of Heaven, stop!” she cried, wildly. 
 “Have you both gone mad?” 
 
 She was between them almost before they realized 
 what had happened, and the two men had fallen apart. 
 
168 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter XXVII. 
 
 There was an expression half of anger, half of 
 shame upon the face of Russell Shannon as he realized 
 what had happened; but Harry Winter’s eyes blazed 
 with wrath. His teeth were set deeply into his lips to 
 prevent the flow of indignant words that he felt rising 
 to them. 
 
 Miss Kingman glanced from one to the other, then 
 her womanhood overcame her, and she would have 
 fainted but that Winter caught her in time and placed 
 her upon a chair. The lady who kept the house went 
 forward and placed her arm about the shrinking girl. 
 [White and giddy, Geraldine Kingman sat there, but 
 she was effectually recalled by hearing Russell Shan¬ 
 non’s remark, made in an undertone, to Doctor Win¬ 
 ter. 
 
 “We will meet again whenever you like; only let it 
 be soon. I tell you that this is a matter that can not 
 —shall not rest.” 
 
 Winter’s face crimsoned. He glanced hastily in the 
 direction of Miss Kingman, recognizing readily enough 
 that she had heard, and, worse still, that she under¬ 
 stood the meaning and cause of the remark. 
 
 He bowed coldly to his brother-in-law. 
 
 Miss Kingman was upon her feet almost imme¬ 
 diately, her white face looking spectral against her 
 burning eyes. 
 
 “What is it that you would do?” she cried, her 
 hands clasped tightly together, her voice thick and 
 hoarse. “Do you wish to make the shame of that 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 169 
 
 poor girl public? Is it your desire to brand her before 
 all the world? She is dead to those who are nearest 
 to her—whom her sorrow would most disgrace; then, 
 for the love of God, let her remain so! Do you think 
 that your fighting can erase the terrible wrong that 
 has been done her? For shame, Russell! Are you a 
 man or child that you allow your feelings to so over¬ 
 rule your reason ?” 
 
 ! Shannon flushed, but Winter had grown pale as 
 death. He was watching Miss Kingman with an ex¬ 
 pression of countenance that was like that of a 
 wounded animal, speechlessly pleading. 
 
 “I do not intend to harm her!” Shannon exclaimed, 
 doggedly; “but I swear that justice shall be done 
 her!” 
 
 “And do you think that fighting can force any but 
 a physical coward?” asked Miss Kingman, heavily. 
 “If you can not persuade by words—if you can not 
 convince the heart through the reason—if you can not 
 make one see the wrong he has done and repair it 
 by kindness, do you think that you can do it by 
 force?” 
 
 “Yes!” 
 
 “Then I tell you that you can not! I am the im¬ 
 partial friend of the girl whom we would both avenge 
 if we could, and therefore I can see more clearly than 
 you can. You are doing her more harm than good. 
 You will regret your act. You will receive no thanks 
 from her. Come with me, at least until you have 
 had time to think this over.” 
 
 She held out her hand. For a moment Shannon 
 hesitated. He did not like the idea of being treated as 
 
170 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 if he were a boy who had been detected in some fool¬ 
 ish quarrel and chidden for his temper. But there was 
 nothing that he could do. He could not fight in the 
 presence of ladies, and he did not wish to say anything 
 further upon the subject to Winter in their presence. 
 
 He turned quietly and picked up his hat from the 
 table where he had laid it, glancing but once in the 
 direction of Winter. 
 
 “To-morrow,” he said, briefly. 
 
 Then he offered his arm to Miss Kingman. 
 
 They were about to leave the room together. Win¬ 
 ter’s face was a study. He seemed to be struggling 
 against some tremendous emotion—some overpower¬ 
 ing desire that finally mastered him. Before they had 
 reached the door he sprung forward and caught Miss 
 Kingman’s arm. 
 
 “One minute!” he cried, hoarsely. “I scorn to ex¬ 
 plain anything to this man who has accused me of so 
 vile—so loathsome an act, and more especially having 
 known me and been my friend, as I believed, for 
 years; but to you it is different. I can not let you go 
 believing me capable of an act so despicable.” 
 
 Miss Kingman turned, her hand grasping Shannon’s 
 arm convulsively. Her color came and went with sur¬ 
 prising rapidity. She leaned faintly against the door¬ 
 casing, her eyes fixed upon Winter’s set face. 
 
 “Co on,” she said, dully. 
 
 “I don’t know what startling evidence you two can 
 have against me to accuse me of a dastardly crime 
 like this, but before Heaven I am innocent! I swear 
 to you upon the honor of a gentleman that I never 
 even knew until this man told me that the lady in 
 question was not a widow!” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 171 
 
 Miss Kingman glanced from him to Shannon in a 
 nervous, questioning way that showed but too dearly 
 that her convictions were much shaken. 
 
 Shannon smiled satirically. 
 
 “Are you so easily convinced?” he asked, coldly. 
 
 “I tell you again,” exclaimed Winter, earnestly, 
 “that to the day of my death I should never either have 
 acknowledged or denied this thing to Shannon, neither 
 should I have taken any pains to convince him in any 
 way, but I can not allow myself to be stamped as a 
 scoundrel in the eyes of the woman for whom I en¬ 
 tertain the greatest respect, without at least an effort 
 to clear myself of the false charge.” 
 
 “Then you are not guilty?” said Miss Kingman, 
 speaking her thoughts aloud without intention. 
 
 “I am not. If you have any doubt upon the subject, 
 come with me to the lady. I can prove to you by her 
 and by others that I never saw her in my life until 
 I met her in the hospital where her child was born. 
 Her peculiarly friendless condition appealed to me, 
 and I promised to do for her what I could. For that 
 purpose—simply to see if I could not make life a 
 trifle less hard for a woman whom I pitied, I called 
 upon her twice in her new quarters. I was there last 
 night, and again to-night. If I have committed a 
 criminal act in an endeavor to lighten a burden that 
 seemed to me too heavy to be borne by shoulders so 
 'frail, then I am guilty; but in nothing else am I.” 
 
 “Is this true?” 
 
 “I do not ask you to take my word. I can prove afl 
 that I have said.” 
 
 He was standing with his arms folded upon his 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 172 
 
 breast. His face was magnificent in its pallid hauteur. 
 Miss Kingman put out her hand to him impulsively. 
 'He flushed deeply as he took it. 
 
 “I believe you without proof,” she said, with emo¬ 
 tion. “I need no other voice than yours to tell me 
 that you are innocent. I know it.” j 
 
 He looked the gratitude that for a moment his lips 
 refused to utter. 
 
 “Can you forgive me?” she asked, simply. 
 
 “lliere is nothing to forgive. You are not to 
 blame,” he answered, slowly. “I can not sufficiently, 
 express my regret that such an outrageous scene has 
 occurred in your presence, but I thank you for your 
 confidence. I can bear anything else better than want 
 of that.” 
 
 He had not meant to say so much, but the under¬ 
 current of the words was not noticed by her. She 
 turned to Russell Shannon, and there were tears in 
 her eyes. 
 
 “Can not you also see that he is speaking the truth?” 
 she asked, tremulously. “Can you not see that you 
 shall have to look further for the guilty man in this 
 case? Don’t you know when you look in Harry Win¬ 
 ter's face that he is incapable of the act that we have 
 ascribed to him?” f 
 
 Shannon did not speak. His eyes were fixed search- 
 ingly upon Winter’s countenance, but the latter was 
 not looking at him. Miss Kingman was the only ob¬ 
 ject of interest in that room to him. There was grati¬ 
 tude in the expression, but no approach to guilt. 
 
 * f Oh, Russell, are you not great of soul enough to 
 acknowledge your error when you have made one?” 
 
A LITTLE FRINCESS 173 
 
 Usked Miss Kingman, reproachfully, not understand¬ 
 ing his silence. 
 
 “Yes,” he answered, quietly, in a manly, straight- 
 {forward way that was infinitely becoming to him. “I 
 am ready to acknowledge that I have been a fool, 
 blinded by my own stupefying pain. I took for, 
 granted a thing that might have ruined the life of my 
 friend, or—made of me a murderer. I have made a 
 great ass of myself, Harry. I have accused you of 
 a thing for which I should not excuse a man were E 
 in your place, and yet I ask you to forgive me.” 
 
 For a moment Winter hesitated; then he put out his 
 hand and grasped that of his dead wife’s brother. 
 
 “Let us forget it,” he said, huskily. 
 
 “Not quite that,” returned Shannon, dully. “I can 
 not forget, because the guilty wretch exists! If he 
 were dead I might try, but as long as he lives the de¬ 
 termination shall live in me to find him and cause him 
 to repair the horrible wrong he has done, let the cir¬ 
 cumstances be what they may. I shall not make an¬ 
 other mistake such as this, but when I have found 
 him he shall understand the debt that he has got to 
 pay.” j 
 
 $ There was an expression in the eyes that made 
 Miss Kingman shudder. There was no defined thought 
 in her mind, but somehow she dreaded the time when 
 Russell Shannon should discover the man whom he 
 sought. She would have scorned herself could she 
 have realized that there was a doubt in her mind of 
 Ballard Hilliard, but it was there, gaunt and shad¬ 
 owy, but still a doubt 
 
 Her lips were white and stiff as she turned to leave 
 *be room. 
 
174 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter XXVIII. 
 
 'Once again Russell Shannon and Miss Kingman 
 were detained by Harry Winter. 
 
 “While I thank you for the confidence that you 
 have shown in me,” he said, with dignity, “it is not 
 my desire that there should be the remotest doubt at 
 any future time in my entire innocence of this charge, 1 
 and therefore I ask it as a favor that you will go with! 
 me to call upon this lady. One can never tell what 
 may occur in the future, and I do not wish that there 
 ever should come a time when the matter would not 
 be quite at rest.” 
 
 There was, of course, at first a demur from both’ 
 persons, but Doctor Winter insisted so strongly upon 
 his point that they finally yielded, and together they 
 went to call upon Carroll. 
 
 The visit was not fraught with any degree of pleas¬ 
 ure to any one of the four, but was painful in the 
 extreme. Carroll’s feelings were spared all that was 
 possible for justice to be done an innocent person. 
 
 Perhaps there was no one of the number more 
 thoroughly miserable as they left the wretched room 
 than was Miss Kingman. She had carefully avoided 
 Ballard Hilliard’s name, even in the private conversa¬ 
 tion that she had had with Carroll, and that of itself 
 was an indication of the suspicion that she would 
 never have acknowledged to even her own heart. 
 
 It was still quite early when the trio left Carroll, 
 and at their invitation, Doctor Winter accompanied 
 them home. But once there, Miss Kingman would 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 175 
 
 have excused herself and gone to her room had not 
 Shannon forestalled her by a request that he be ex¬ 
 cused for half an hour, and also that they found that 
 [Mrs. Shannon had retired to her room with a most 
 severe headache. 
 
 i It was without a feeling of embarrassment that 
 Geraldine Kingman was left alone with Harry Winter. 
 I She was thinking too much of Carroll—wondering, 
 j| with a vague shiver of apprehension, who had caused 
 the terrible sorrow in that young life—scarcely daring 
 to think, yet longing to be alone, when she realized 
 that he was speaking to her. 
 
 ‘‘Have you known Mrs. Mills—or Miss Millbourne 
 **—long ?” he asked. 
 
 “All her life, I think,” she answered. 
 
 ; “Then surely you are able to judge something of 
 Whom she has loved.” 
 
 ■ “No!” she exclaimed, hastily, endeavoring to sup¬ 
 press the shudder that she feared he might observe. 
 “I do not know whom she has loved; I do not even 
 suspect. There was—one who—loved her—who 
 would have made her his wife! but she was not will¬ 
 ing.” 
 
 * “Poor fellow!” 
 
 I “Why do you say that?” 
 
 | “Because the greatest curse that can befall a man 
 is to love without being loved in return.” 
 
 “Or a woman, either.” 
 
 Miss Kingman’s head was lowered. She did not 
 speak as one does who simply acquiesces in a state¬ 
 ment, or even as one who sympathizes in an assertion. 
 Her voice was almost inaudible, and filled with a 
 suffering that would not be denied expression. 
 
176 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Harry Winter started. His face flushed. He rose 
 and stood leaning his elbow upon the mantlepiece, 
 looking down upon her. The room was lighted only 
 with the red fire-glow that was shining on them both. 
 He locked at her for some moments in silence, won¬ 
 dering if he had understood her aright. When he 
 spoke his voice trembled. 
 
 "It is not possible that you could know that from 
 experience,” he said softly. "You could not love 
 without reciprocation.” 
 
 Something in the tone, something in the scene 
 seemed to arouse all the womanly weakness in Geral¬ 
 dine Kingman’s nature. A slow tear trickled through 
 her eyelids, and as she felt it upon her cheek it seemed 
 to break down every barrier. She buried her face in 
 her hands and sobbed in a heartbroken way that 
 seemed to unman her listener. He bore it for some 
 moments in silence; then, unable to endure it longer, 
 he knelt beside her and took the trembling form in his 
 arms. 
 
 "What is it, Jerry?” he whispered. "Don’t cry like 
 that, my darling; you break my heart. For more than 
 a year I have nourished and cherished the hope that 
 one day I might win you for my wife. The death of 
 that hope is almost like death of the soul to me. Jerry, 
 do you know what it is that you are forcing me to be¬ 
 lieve? It is that you have loved not wisely—” \ 
 
 "But too well!” she interrupted, striving to con-< 
 trol her voice. "Forgive me. I should not have sub¬ 
 mitted you to this scene. But there are times when I 
 am so weak—so weak!” 
 
 "And the naan whom you love—” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 177 ; 
 
 “ Don’t ask me that, Harry. And yet it is but right 
 that I should tell you. I am his promised wife!” 
 
 “You?” 
 
 ? “Yes. Did you not know? Had you not heard of 
 my engagement of years’ standing to Ballard Hill¬ 
 iard ?” 
 
 “I never knew.” 
 
 “I thought every one did.” 
 
 “But—I don’t quite understand. You do not love 
 him—” 
 
 “It is not that, God help me! It is that he does not 
 love me!” 
 
 “Jerry!” 
 
 “You see how weak I am in that I can tell you this. 
 There is no one in all this world to whom I have 
 spoken on this subject but you. I did not intend it.” 
 
 “But who is able to sympathize with you as I am? 
 5 who have suffered in like manner?—I who am suf¬ 
 fering now as never man did before?” 
 
 “And all because of me?” 
 
 “All because I love you!” 
 
 “Oh, how sorry I am! I never suspected! I—” 
 
 “Hush! Don’t think that it is necessary to speak 
 to me like that. How were you to suspect when I 
 have kept it so carefully concealed, lest I should be¬ 
 tray it at a time that was inopportune, and so lose my 
 chance? Ah, Jerry, dearest heart, I know what your 
 misery is! But tell me, dear, what shall you do?” 
 
 “How do you mean ?” 
 
 “Shall you marry him?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 There was something dogged in the manner in which 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 1178 
 
 she pronounced the word. Winter drew back, an ex* 
 pression of horror in his eyes. 
 
 “You would not do that, Jerry!” he exclaimed, 
 earnestly. “Think, dear, what you are saying. He 
 does not love you. Are you sure of that?” r 
 
 “I have tried to convince myself to the contrary, 
 but I can not. I don’t know why I tell you this. God 
 knows it is humiliating enough!” 
 
 “You tell me because you know that I would give 
 my life to aid you. You tell me because you feel in 
 your heart that I would gladly give every joy in life 
 if I could but bring you the love that ought to be 
 yoursc But may it not be possible that you wrong 
 him ?” 
 
 Geraldine Kingman shivered. 
 
 “No!” she groaned. “I could not mistake what he 
 has told me with his own lips.” 
 
 “And yet you would marry him? Oh, Jerry!” 
 
 “It is because I believe that I can be of service to 
 him. It is because I believe that one day he will love 
 me as I love him. It is because—” 
 
 “Do you really believe all that, child, or are you 
 striving to delude yourself?” 
 
 She hesitated a moment, then began to sob afresh. | 
 
 “Jerry,” he said, tenderly, “be true to yourself, my 
 darling. I am not pleading for myself now, but you. 
 You can’t understand what life will be to you if you 
 go into this marriage in which the love is all upon 
 your side. It would be so much, so infinitely better, 
 if it were but reversed, and the love were upon his 
 side. There is that in a woman’s nature that will 
 always keep her in the line of truth and virtue if she 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 179 
 
 be truly a woman in its better sense, but every man 
 must love to be what his wife deserves. That is why 
 marriage is so often a failure. The love is so seldom 
 of the right kind on the part of the man, and when 
 it is not, or when there m none at all, God help them 
 both!” 
 
 “But I may win his love.” 
 
 “I know it is the popular idea with fictional char¬ 
 acters, but I tell you that it is not true. You never yet 
 saw the case in which the wife won what the sweet¬ 
 heart could not.” 
 
 “I will not believe it!” she cried, passionately. “God 
 Would not be so cruel! It is not true! Would you not 
 marry me, if you really love me as you say, and risk 
 the coming of love?” 
 
 He hesitated for a long time. Harry Winter was 
 an honest and conscientious man, and he wanted to 
 be sure that he was uttering the truth. He turned to 
 the fire and buried his face in his hands for many min¬ 
 utes. When he lifted it it was gray with passion. 
 
 “God help me!” he exclaimed, hoarsely; “I am 
 afraid that I would!” 
 
 Geraldine Kingman leaped to her feet. 
 
 “You would?” she cried, wildly, “and so shall I{ 
 I will marry Ballard Hilliard! I swear it! If I can 
 not win his love afterward, then I can do that which 
 we must all come to sooner or later—I can die! But 
 I will be his wife! There is nothing that shall pre¬ 
 vent that! Nothing!” 
 
180 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter XXIX. 
 
 The night that followed was one of unusual h’or-S 
 ror to Geraldine Kingman. She went to bed after 
 Harry Winter had left her, and tried to sleep; but f 
 that vague, shadowy unrest that had attacked her 
 when she stood listening at the door of the room that 
 contained Doctor Winter and Russell Shannon would 
 not be stilled. She tried many times to shake it off, 
 but it would not leave her. 
 
 She rose, and in her bare feet walked hurriedly up 
 and down the room, thinking to force sleep through 
 physical exhaustion, but without result. A nervous¬ 
 ness that was almost like hysteria had attacked her ;• 
 but still she had never acknowledged, even to her own 
 heart, what it was she feared—what it was she 
 thought. 
 
 ‘‘What is the matter with me?” she asked of her¬ 
 self many times, endeavoring to choke oft the pre¬ 
 monition that seemed about to drive her mad. “What 
 is tliis unreal thing with which I am torturing myself? 
 
 It is absurd, ridiculous! I will go to bed and sleep.” 
 
 But in spite of resolution and effort, there was no 
 sleep for her, and it was with a feeling of positive 
 rejoicing that she saw the morning break. 
 
 “The day! Thank God!” she muttered, pushing 
 back the disarranged hair from her haggard brow. 
 “Another night like that would kill me. And all for 
 what ?” 
 
 She sat for a moment in deep reflection, staring 
 into the gray, deserted street, then suddenly started 
 up. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 181 
 
 “I must go home to-day!” she cried, her teeth 
 chattering together curiously. “My week is up, and 
 Ballard said that if I did not come home he would 
 come after me. I must not allow him the opportunity 
 to come after me; I must keep him out of this town, 
 because I have promised Carroll that he shall not 
 know. Great heavens! how am I even to keep that 
 promise? Already that helpless baby has spoiled my 
 .whole life! Am I to go through existence with that 
 secret that has already grown to be a nightmare upon 
 my mind? Must I always preserve it, when it has 
 already grown odious to me? Oh, God! why have I 
 been forced to share this secret? Why could it not 
 have been kept from me as well?” 
 
 She bowed her head upon the sill of the window 
 for a time and moaned, then she arose angrily and 
 stood there looking out into the threatening sky. 
 
 “After all, what have I to do with Carroll Mill- 
 bourne and her child?” she cried, coldly. “I am mak¬ 
 ing an egregious foci of myself! She is nothing to 
 me—never has been, save the object of my charity. 
 Why should she come between me and my life’s hap¬ 
 piness? There is no reason, and she shall not! I will 
 put this thing out of my life. I will forget that she 
 does not lie up there in Woodlawn near the lake, 
 where we have all visited her, and I will be happy in 
 my own way.” 
 
 Her teeth were set firmly. There was an expression 
 in her eyes that did not indicate any great degree of 
 enjoyment; but, with nerves that had grown almost 
 firm under the tensity of her resolution, she began to 
 pack her trunk. 
 
>182 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 She forgot the hours, in her occupation, and was 
 astonished when a knock sounded upon her door. She 
 threw it open. 
 
 “What is the hour, Lizette?” she asked of the 
 maid. 
 
 “Scarcely nine, ma’am,” she replied. 
 
 “So late? I had no idea of that.” 
 
 “Mr. Hilliard is here, ma’am.” 
 
 “Mr. Hilliard?” 
 
 “Yes, ma’am.” 
 
 Miss Kingman had grown pale. For a moment th* 
 old horror returned to her, then a flush glowed in he£ 
 cheeks. 
 
 “Tell him that I will be down at once!” she ex* 
 claimed. 
 
 She closed the door and went swiftly to the glass. 
 A crimson spot burned in either cheek. She was 
 tremendously excited. 
 
 “He does love me!” she cried, as if striving to con¬ 
 vince herself of something she knew to be untrue. 
 “He does love me! He would not have come so 
 early else. I will never believe anything else again! I 
 must take him back at once, in order to prevent his 
 finding out about her . I do it only for his good. Noth¬ 
 ing else—nothing else! It would but make him mis¬ 
 erable, and surely we have both had enough of that.” 
 
 Very rapidly she had rearranged her toilet, taking 
 unusual pains with her hair, then descended to the 
 drawing-room, where her betrothed husband waited. 
 
 He bent and kissed her. 
 
 What was it in the act that sent a shiver through 
 all being? She could not have answered definitely. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 183 
 
 yet a thought was struggling for recognition in her 
 brain. Was that the kiss of a lover? Was that the 
 embrace of a betrothed husband? Was there the 
 .warmth of longing in his caress? Or was it not 
 something that savored very strongly of remorse, this 
 manner of his ? 
 
 « He had held her very closely to him for a moment, 
 but it was in such a position that she could not see 
 his face. He had kissed her, but the caress contained 
 none of the enthusiasm of a lover. Her very soul 
 sickened under it, and yet, unconsciously, she re¬ 
 solved sternly that she would not see. 
 
 She laughed a trifle hysterically, took his face be- 1 
 tween her hands and kissed it of her own accord. 
 
 “I am so glad you have come,” she cried, striving 
 to speak lightly. “I have my things all packed, and 
 we shall start for home at once. It will seem so good 
 to be back again!” 
 
 “Then you have not enjoyed it?” 
 
 “Oh, yes! It would be ungrateful to say that I 
 have not, would it not? But I shall be glad to be at 
 home again for all that. I have missed you so, Bal¬ 
 lard.” 
 
 | “Have you, dear? I am glad to hear that. I need 
 fiot tell you how lonely I have been.” 
 
 “Have you, really?” she asked, the laughter dying 
 from her face, and a serious wistfulness taking its 
 place. 
 
 “Really? Why, to be sure, little woman. Did yoil 
 think I should not? My life contains very little else 
 than you, you know. I have wandered about like a: 
 sheep that had strayed away from the fold since you 
 
181 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 have been away. Oh, yes, Jerry, you may be quite 
 sure that I was lonely enough to please even the most 
 exacting woman.” 
 
 A brilliant light was dancing in her eyes, a spot 
 of crimson had come to either cheek. She lifted her¬ 
 self and kissed him upcrn the chin. 
 
 “I shall never leave you again, Ballard,” she said, 
 with infinite tenderness, and some catch in the voice 
 that suggested the nearness of tears. 
 
 “That is good. But when am I to have you for 
 my own, Jerry?” he asked, gently, but still painfully 
 unenthusiastic. “You know that you promised that 
 you would answer me at the end of the week.” 
 
 A defiant expression that he could not quite com¬ 
 prehend came into his eyes. She lifted her head, her 
 lips firmly set, her breath peculiarly repressed. 
 
 “I am ready to become your wife, Ballard, at any 
 time—at any time that you may desire it.” 
 
 He hesitated a moment. A pallor that was almost 
 piteous came about his mouth. He put up his hand to 
 conceal the trembling of his lips. His face had sud¬ 
 denly grown haggard and gray. 
 
 “Thank you dear,” he said, slowly. “Then we will 
 arrange it immediately upon our return to New York.” 
 
 He sat down in a chair, without an invitation, or 
 waiting for her to be seated. The room had grown 
 strangely dark to him. He weakly lifted the hair 
 from his brow. He seemed to feel as the condemned 
 wretch does who has listened to the reading of his 
 death-warrant. 
 
 And did Miss Kingman see it ail? She would not! 
 She closed her eyes for a moment to overcome her 
 giddiness, then she, too, sat down. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 1S5 
 
 There was a long silence between them—a most 
 peculiar silence under the circumstances—then Hill¬ 
 iard put out his cold hand and gently stroked her 
 wrist. 
 
 “When shall we be ready to go?” he asked, trying 
 to infuse his voice with some degree of interest. 
 
 “To-day—this very morning!” she answered, barely 
 able to control the rising hysteria in the tone. “I 
 should have gone away anyway if you had not come.” 
 
 “Are you not cutting your visit a day or two short?” 
 
 “Yes—no! No matter. I am tired. I want to be 
 at home. There is no place like one’s home, after 
 all. Oh, Ballard, I wish to God I had not come! 1 
 wish to God you had insisted upon my remaining that 
 morning in the studio when I told you that I was 
 going!” 
 
 She had lost her self control for the moment, and 
 a long scb struggled through her lips. Hilliard had 
 never heard anything like that from her before. He 
 was startled into a forgetfulness of his own misery. 
 He took her hand and leaned toward her. 
 
 “Why, Jerry!” he exclaimed. “What is the matter 
 with you, dear ? Why is it that you wish you had not 
 come? Has anything happened, little one?” 
 
 |i “No!” she answered, shivering and pushing back 
 \he heavy hair from her forehead. “You must not 
 mind me. I am nervous this morning, that is all—I 
 did not sleep well last night, and my head aches.” 
 
 “Then perhaps we had better wait over, and go 
 to-morrow 
 
 “No! no! no! There is nothing that could induce, 
 me to stay m this town another day—another hour. 
 
1S3 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 I feel as if I should suffocate here. I must go—I 
 must or die, I tell you! Oh; Ballard, Ballard, take 
 me home!” 
 
 f 
 
 And, more astonished than he had almost ever been 
 before in his life, Hilliard consented. 
 
 Chapter XXX. 
 
 It was not a difficult thing for Miss Kingman to 
 make excuses to her hostess for the suddenness of 
 hjer departure, for, while Mrs. Shannon admired and 
 loved her guest, she was never one to insist upon pro¬ 
 longing a visit after an intention had been declared 
 to bring it to a close. Therefore, after a promise had 
 been exacted that it would be repeated soon, and a 
 playful reproof given to Hilliard for robbing her, shs 
 allowed Geraldine to go. 
 
 The latter saw Shannon for a moment alone before 
 entering the carriage to be driven to the station. 
 
 “For 50000058’ sake be careful what you doi” she 
 said to him, earnestly. “Think what might have hap¬ 
 pened between you and Harry Winter if it had not 
 been for my interference. Remember how unjust your 
 accusation was, and have a care for the future. Will 
 you promise me that you will?” 
 
 Shannon’s eyes were fixed upon the floor. His hag¬ 
 gard face appealed very strongly to her. 
 
 “Yes,” he answered, wearily; “I shall try; but it 
 seems to me that there is very little left in life. If I 
 could find that wretch I think I should kill him, and 
 then I should take her away and make her forget.” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 187 
 
 Miss Kingman shuddered, the old pallor that her 
 departure had erased, returning. 
 
 “Don't speak like that. Do you think there would 
 ever be any happiness for either of you after you had 
 done a thing like that? One crime does not wipe out 
 another.” 
 
 “Perhaps not. It is so absolutely dreary and deso¬ 
 late, this thing of living, that, after all, I might but 
 be doing him a favor. I don't think you understand 
 how it is with me, Jerry. If Carroll had died, I could 
 have borne it with the fortitude that a man should 
 show; but I think this thing has robbed me of all my 
 courage. I am not like myself. I could have given 
 her to another man whom she loved, with all my 
 heart; but to see her like this, to know that she is the 
 accursed of her sex through a scoundrel whose iden¬ 
 tity I can not discover, maddens me!”' 
 
 Miss Kingman's lips were twitching nervously. She 
 strove to steady her voice as she replied: 
 
 “Remember that you can do her no good by hasty 
 and unconsidered actions, and you may do something 
 that you will have cause to regret all your life. If 
 anything happens, you will let me know, will you 
 not ?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “Good-bye.” 
 
 “Good-bye, and God bless you! I suppose we shall 
 receive cards to your wedding shortly ?” 
 
 A spasm of pain contracted the handsome face. 
 
 “Yes,” she answered, endeavoring to speak light!} 7 . 
 
 “You ought to be a very happy woman ** 
 
 She did not lift her eyes. 
 
188 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “Why? 5 * she asked. 
 
 “Because Ballard Hilliard is a noble man. He i? 
 an ornament to his sex, and it should be the pride of 
 your heart that you have won the love of such a man.” 
 
 Miss Kingman did not reply. She stood there in 
 her traveling-dress picking at the button upon her 
 glove, her eyes downcast, an expression that might 
 also be translated into shame upon her countenance. 
 There was a curious silence between them; then, una¬ 
 ble to bear it, she put out her hand and clasped his 
 closely. Suddenly there seemed a new bond of sym¬ 
 pathy established between them. She could not ex¬ 
 actly comprehend it. 
 
 “Good-bye,” she whispered. 
 
 He pressed his lips upon her forehead. 
 
 “Hilliard would not grudge me that!” he exclaimed, 
 with a wan smile. “It is the kiss of a brother, you 
 know, Jerry.” 
 
 “Yes, I know. You will write?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 There was another pressure of the hand, warm and 
 dose, then she went back to Mrs. Shannon and Hill¬ 
 iard. 
 
 “I was just about to come for you,” the latter said. 
 “We have no more than time to catch the train. Are 
 you ready?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 The homeward journey was fitfully silent and gay, 
 marked at one moment by laughter and at the next 
 by sighs. That something unusual had happened to 
 his fume dr Ballard Hilliard felt assured, but he did 
 not consider it wise to question her upon the subject 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 189 
 
 mntil she had shown an inclination to take him into 
 her confidence. He therefore humored her moods in 
 every way. 
 
 } He remained to luncheon with her at her request, 
 but when he saw that she was wearied, half exhausted 
 later, he left her. 
 
 * “Take an hour's rest, Jerry,” he said, as he touched 
 his lips to hers at parting. “I will come to dine with 
 you this evening, if I may, and then we can arrange 
 pur future when you are feeling more like yourself. 
 jYour trip has utterly wearied you.” 
 
 She did not insist upon his remaining, but watched 
 him wistfully as he got into his coat, then handed him 
 his hat herself. 
 
 “Good-bye,” she said, her lip trembling piteously. 
 T ‘I have such a strange feeling in my heart, Ballard. 
 1 w r ish you would put your arms closely about me—• 
 just once, dear. Hold me tightly and kiss me while 
 I.shut my eyes and try to fancy that it is real.” 
 
 He looked at her curiously—hysteria w r as so for* 
 eign to her nature. What could it mean? 
 
 He took her in his arms and pressed her head ten¬ 
 derly upon his shoulder. 
 
 “What are you saying, little one?” he questioned, 
 gently. “You are not at all like yourself. Should 
 you have to shut your eyes to fancy my kisses real ?” 
 
 She shook her head and tried to smile, but it was a 
 very wintry effort. She disengaged herself from his 
 arms and pushed him slightly from her. Even the 
 palpable fraud that she had tried to put upon herself 
 was a failure. 
 
 “I am tired,” she answered, huskily. “That is all. 
 When you return I shall be quite myself. You must 
 
190 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 think me very silly, dear, but I shall not distress you 
 like this again. Go, now. Be sure you come to me 
 early. Don’t let anything detain you. I feel strangely 
 nervous and—” t 
 
 “Perhaps I had better not go at all.” 
 
 “Yes, I had much rather you would.” 
 
 He kissed her once with the tenderness of a brother, 
 then the door closed upon him. a 
 
 She went to the window and watched the tall, manly 
 form until it had disappeared, scarcely able to con- 
 ti ol her sobbing. Then, when he was quite gone, she 
 pulled herself up with a little shake. 
 
 “What fancies are these to which I am giving 
 way?” she cried to herself, indignantly. “I might as 
 well acknowledge it to myself. I am insulting my 
 betrothed husband with the vilest suspicion that ever, 
 entered a woman’s heart. I think I should stab the 
 person who dared intimate so horrible a lie to me of 
 him, and yet, in my own heart, I am doing him an in¬ 
 justice that his worst enemy would hesitate to put 
 upon him. Oh, shame—shame!” 
 
 She walked quickly up and down the floor once or 
 twice, then sat down and leaned her head dejectedly 
 upon her hands. How long she had been so she was 
 unable to say, when one of the servants entered. 
 
 “Mrs. Millbourne is here, Miss Kingman,” he an¬ 
 nounced. “Will you see her?” 
 
 Geraldine sprung up. Here was some one who 
 loved Ballard even as she did. A flush sprung to her 
 cheeks. She was glad that Mrs. Millbourne had come, 
 f^r, in spite of the secret that was burning in her 
 6reast of the existence of Mrs. Millbourne’s child, they 
 could talk of Ballard, and Mrs. Millbourne’s per- 
 
'a little princess 191j 
 
 (feet confidence would restore hers. She was ashamed 
 of herself for the thought, and yet she hurriedly gave 
 her servant permission to show her friend to the room. 
 i And then ? 
 
 i She stared back with a cry of alarm when she saw; 
 the ghastly features, the disordered appearance, of the 
 j woman who had been one of the neatest she had ever 
 | known. She did not speak, but stood there facing 
 I .Carroll’s mother, her hands pressed upon her breast, 
 her breath coming in little pants, 
 w The elder woman had paused, leaning in her ex¬ 
 haustion against the door. She waited but a moment, 
 however, then closed the door and went slowly, in an 
 almost’ spectral way, up to the girl who had loved her 
 daughter. 
 
 H “I have come to tell you something, Geraldine King- 
 man,” she said, hoarsely. “For years you have been 
 the best friend I have had—I and my family—per¬ 
 haps the only one. I have loved you next to my, 
 own child, and with reason. I have often thought 
 that if the time ever came when I had an opportunity 
 of doing it, I would gladly lay down my life for you; 
 and yet I am here today to strike you the most cruel 
 blow that has ever come into your young life.” 
 
 \ Still Miss Kingman did not speak. Her tongue 
 seemed knit to the roof of her mouth. She was in¬ 
 capable of word or movement. Seeing which, Mrs. 
 SMillbourne, continued: 
 
 “I have come,” she said, slowly, “to prove to you 
 that he whom you love is the yilest scoundrel that 
 ever disgraced the name of man.” 
 
 The color surged from Miss Kingman’s throat tot 
 her brow. 
 
192 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “How dare you say that?” she exclaimed, her voice 
 refusing to rise above a whisper, in her awful anger. 
 “How dare you come to me with a wretched false¬ 
 hood—” 
 
 “Wait! You could not believe in him more than 
 I did. You could not trust him more than I have 
 done. There is nothing that could have convinced 
 rne but the voice of the dead, proclaiming his guilt 
 in a tone that would not be misunderstood. And as 
 I have heard, so also shall you. There is the letter. 
 Read!” > 
 
 She held out that cruel \hing in her hand, and 
 Miss Kmgman stood there, looking down upon it, but 
 not daring to touch it. She seemed frozen into ice. 
 
 Chapter XXXI. 
 
 In her dimly lighted little room Carroll sat with her 
 sleeping child upon her knee. She was not looking at 
 the baby, but at the torn curtain that shaded the tiny 
 window. 
 
 It did not require a second glance into the pale, 
 haggard face to know that the reflections of that 
 child-woman were far from pleasant. She was striv¬ 
 ing to make some plan of future action without a ray 
 of hope to build upon. The small supply of money 
 that she had earned while with Mrs. Shannon was 
 almost exhausted, and she knew that work must be 
 done or her baby would starve. Yet what was there 
 to do? 
 
 She knew that with that little incumbrance & waa 
 
A LITTLE PRIUCfiroS 
 
 193 
 
 ftvorse than useless for her to attempt the work of a 
 servant; for even had she the strength to accomplish 
 it, no one would employ her, and she was trying very 
 hard not to deceive herself in anything. 
 
 She could not teach, even had she the pupils, for 
 her education was not of the kind that admits of that. 
 There seemed absolutely nothing that she could do, 
 look at it in whatever light she would. It was a 
 dreary prospect, and it is not to be wondered at that 
 her faint heart sunk in hopelessness and dread. 
 
 She lifted the baby and pressed its tiny face against 
 her own. ( 
 
 “But for you, my darling, I could face it bravely; 
 enough,” she whispered, sobbingly. “Without bread 
 I should die, and that would be the end of all; but I 1 
 can not see you suffer, my little Princess. I shall 
 move heaven and earth tomorrow to find something 
 for you and me, my pretty one. Oh, baby, baby! 
 what a bitter world it has been for me, and will be 
 for you, I fear!” 
 
 A slow tear trickled through her burning eyelids 
 and fell upon the small face. It seemed to awaken 
 the infant, and a low, hoarse wail issued through the 
 little lips. 
 
 She tried to hush it with a little lullaby that was 
 infinitely tender and soothing, but the child continued 
 to cry fitfully, weakly. t 
 
 She turned up the dim lamp and looked into the 
 little face. 
 
 Was it fancy, or had there come a curious blue 
 look about the tiny mouth, a pinched expression ah$ui 
 the nose? 
 
 Her heart gave a great bound. 
 
194 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 She looKed more closely. There was no mistake. 
 The horrible blue was spreading rapidly. The little 
 form was growing rigid in her clasp. 
 
 A shrill scream issued from the lips of the young 
 and inexperienced mother, then another and another, f 
 until without ceremony the door was thrown open and . 
 several women rushed into the room. 
 
 “What’s the matter?” they demanded in chorus. | 
 
 “My baby! She is dying!” Carroll gasped, lifting’ 
 her white, horror-stricken face to that of the nearest 
 woman. “For God’s sake, do something for her! 
 She is all I have in the world 1 You must not let her; 
 die!” 
 
 “Give her to me!” cried the eldest of the number. 
 “She’s got a spasm. It’s not much. Quick, Jenny! 
 Get me a tub of hot water—as hot as you can get it!” 
 
 Even as she spoke the woman was rapidly stripping 
 the clothes from the now perfectly rigid little form. 
 Carroll stood for a moment looking on in stunned 
 agony, then without a word, without hat or wrap, she 
 dashed out into the street. 
 
 With the speed of the wind she seemed to fly. On, 
 on, never pausing for breath, she went, paying no 
 heed to the persons who stopped to look at her inf 
 her rapid flight, straight to the hospital where the| 
 only friend upon whom she could then rely was to be; 
 'found. She dashed by the man at the door before.' 
 he could gainsay her, and ran half exhausted into the 
 room of Doctor Winter. 
 
 He sprung up hastily at the sudden entrance. 
 
 “Mrs. Mills!” he exclaimed, “what in Heaven's 
 name has happened?” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 195 
 
 “My baby!” she gasped. “Quick, she is dying!” 
 r He never remembered to have seen anything like 
 the expression upon Carroll’s face when she uttered 
 those words. He started forward and placed his hand 
 jfieavily upon her shoulder. 
 
 fj “Calm yourself!” he cried, hastily. “It may not 
 I be so bad as you think. What is the matter with her, 
 3and where have you left her?” 
 
 “At home! Oh, for God’s sake, come! She may 
 be dead already!” 
 
 | “But can’t you tell me something, so that I may 
 Enow—” 
 
 ii “It is a spasm, some one said, but—” 
 
 '■ “Oh, if that is all, there is not so much danger, 
 (Come!” 
 
 r He picked up his hat and got into his coat as he 
 was going toward the door. His buggy was at the 
 street door, and he lifted her into it. There was not 
 a word spoken on that rapid homeward drive, but by 
 the set expression of those haggard eyes, Harry Win¬ 
 ter knew how Carroll was suffering. 
 
 | They were not long in reaching the little half 
 tlimbled-down house that Carroll called her home, 
 and lifting her out carefully, he hurried with her into 
 .the room. 
 
 % All that could have been done for the child had been 
 Iby the kind-hearted women, and very gradually it 
 ~was recovering from the terrible rigidity, but there 
 was an expression on Harry Winter’s face as he held 
 the little creature in his arms that caused the most 
 experienced to shake their heads and glance appre¬ 
 hensively at Carroll. 
 
196 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 She, however, saw only that the child was better, 
 and a great thanksgiving filled her soul. She had 
 scarcely realized before how great a part of her life 
 that little child had become, but she knew it all now, 
 and tears rolled over her face like rain as the reaction 
 pf hope came. 
 
 ; But it was piteously short-lived. 
 
 The baby looked at her—she even fancied it smiled 
 in a weak sort of way—then the old pinched expres¬ 
 sion began to come again. The wild fear leaped once 
 more into Carroll’s heart, but she neither moved nor 
 spoke, standing staring down at the blue lines in the 
 little face as if she had become petrified. 
 
 Through all the long hours of the night Harry 
 [Winter worked over it faithfully, assisted by the 
 good women, two of whom remained; but he seemed 
 to know from the beginning that it was a hopeless 
 endeavor. How patient and gentle he was! But it 
 was all so useless. As morning broke, he rose and 
 placed the little creature upon the bed. 
 
 Carrol crept up closely beside him, and touched his 
 arm. 
 
 , “Is she—dead?” she whispered, hoarsely. 
 
 [Winter put his arms tenderly about her shoulders. 
 
 “You must bear it bravely, poor little woman,” he 
 6aid, sorrowfully. 
 
 She did not seem to understand at first, looking at 
 him in a dazed sort of way, then she saw some one 
 press down the tiny eyelids. 
 
 Winter was looking down at her. 
 
 She did not cry out or moan, but a smile came over 
 tier stiff features. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 197: 
 
 She turned to the women present. 
 
 “You have been very good to her and to me, all of 
 you,” she said, with a calmness that was oppressive, 
 “and I thank you more than I can say. But it is all 
 over now. Will you not leave me alone with her?” 
 
 Doctor Winter shook her slightly. 
 
 “Child,” he said, tenderly, “you must bear up under 
 that as you should! Remember that you are not the 
 only childless mother in the world. We must all yield 
 to the will of Heaven. Would you call her back from 
 the presence of God, even if you could?” 
 
 She seemed to be trying to consider for a moment, 
 then she answered, still very quietly: 
 
 “No. I would not, even if I could.” 
 
 There was a smile upon her face as she said the 
 words, and Winter shivered. 
 
 He tried to speak some words of comfort and hope 
 to her, but she stared at him as if his meaning were 
 a blank, answering: 
 
 “You must not think that I am grieving. Why 
 should I ? She is at rest with God. Won't you leave 
 me for just a little while?” 
 
 And they complied. 
 
 When she was alone with her dead, she knelt upon 
 the floor and encircled the little form with her arms. 
 
 “Are you afraid, my darling, there in the darkness 
 by yourself?” she whispered. “It must be very lonely 
 for you, my little Princess—very lonely. Wait, baby 
 -—wait, if you can, but a little while, and mamma will 
 carry you in her arms through the darkness and the 
 storm. You are too little to go alone, and God will 
 forgive me now. There is nothing else to keep me—• 
 
198 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 nothing at all! Every one will be better without me, 
 and we shall be happy together up there with God, my 
 little Princess. He has shown me the way at lastt 
 Arid they thought that I should regret it!” - 
 
 She tenderly kissed the child again and again, but 
 without passion, then arose from her knees. 
 
 There was neither haste nor hesitation in her, 
 manner. The smile that Harry Winter had seen 
 upon her lips was still there. - i 
 
 With great deliberation she opened a drawer of a: 
 table that answered as bureau and washstand both, 
 and took from it a small bottle, with the ominous 
 skull and cross-bones prominently stamped upon the 
 label. She held it for a moment between her and the 
 light. It was almost full. ' 
 
 Once again she crossed to the side of the baby and 
 leaned over to press her lips upon those already 
 growing cold. 
 
 “Wait, darling!” she whispered. “Only a moment 
 now!” 
 
 She took the stopper from the bottle, then quietly 
 lifted it to her lips. 
 
 Chapter XXXII. 
 
 Geraldine Kingman stood staring at Millh.srtt Mill- 
 bourne, dumbly, a wild horror in her eye* that was 
 indescribable. Had her hideous premonitions so soon 
 proved to be a reality, then? 
 
 There was a letter in the woman'® hand, the letter 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 199 
 
 thax she knew contained the truth that she so much 
 
 beared to hear. An icy perspiration stood upon her 
 
 brow and about her set mouth. What should she do? 
 
 i And then the indecision, the weakness of disbelief 
 
 seemed to leave her, and the old defiance returned. 
 
 , She would not listen to the stories against this be- 
 
 Itrothed husband of hers, against whom she had not 
 I 
 
 ithe right to hear. She drew herself up proudly and 
 ' looked the suffering woman unflinchingly in the eye. 
 
 “I regret that you have done this!” she said, coldly. 
 “I have always liked you. I have tried in every way 
 that lay in my power to make your life a happier one. 
 I have done what I could for you disinterestedly. 
 There was no expected reward, no desire for one, but 
 I did not expect such ingratitude. Leave my 
 presence.” 
 
 She loathed herself for her cruelty, her selfishness, 
 when she saw the look of positive anguish that crossed 
 Mrs. Millbourne’s face. The poor woman drew back, 
 her sensitive lip quivered, then a dogged determination 
 blanched her already ghastly face. 
 
 “No!” she cried, “I can not go until I have proven 
 to you that what I have said is the truth. You are 
 too much my friend for me to allow you to sacrifice 
 yourself in any way, and I can not do it, even if my 
 | punishment for speaking the truth is that I am never 
 |to see you again. You shall hear me!” 
 
 ® “I tell you that I will not! Do you think that I 
 should accept your word in preference to that of my 
 husband that is to be? Do you think that I should 
 allow you to speak falsely of him to me?” 
 
 [ u l do not ask you to accept my word. I ask you 
 
200 
 
 A LI TTLE PRINCESS 
 
 to accept only the message that has come to me from 
 the dead. I ask you <,nly to listen to the words that 
 Carroll herself has spoken.” 
 
 There was a solemn !:y about the tone that was most 
 impressive. i 
 
 Miss Kingman shivered. For a moment she closed 
 her eyes as if to gain strength. Her hand was half 
 extended as if she would take the letter, then dropped 
 helplessly by her side. When she opened her eyes all 
 her strength seemed to have vanished; but in its stead 
 was a wild pleading that was infinitely piteous. 
 
 “Don’t!” she cried, hocrsely. “You don’t know 
 what I am suffering. Have you never loved, that you 
 can come here to me with this cruel story? I have 
 tried to be your friend. Why could you not have let 
 me have my little happiness in exchange?” 
 
 Tears came to Mrs. Millboutue’s eyes. 
 
 “Oh, child, you don’t know what you are saying,” 
 she exclaimed, huskily. “You don’t understand what 
 the future would have brought you. Do you think it 
 \vould have contained any happiness aiter you had dis¬ 
 covered, as you would have been forced to do sooner 
 or later, that you were married to a scoundrel? Do 
 you think there would have been any happiness in' 
 discovering that the father of your children was 
 the—” 1 
 
 “For the love of God, hush!” cried Miss Kingman, 
 her teeth chattering together violently. “Do you think 
 I am not suffering enough already? What is this 
 thing that you would show me? Let me seoW 
 
 She held out her hand with an energy that denied 
 born of despair. She grasped the soiled papW. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 201 
 
 trembling so that the lines were almost illegible, she 
 read to the end, then she lifted her eyes to the face 
 tff that agonized mother. It was quivering with 
 *hame and anguish. 
 
 “Do you think that that has cost me nothing?” 
 $Irs. Mill-bourne asked, in an almost inaudible voice. 
 “Do you think that it was an easy thing for me to 
 allow even you to suspect the shame that has come 
 upon me ? But my duty was crying aloud. The man 
 whom you would marry has not only deceived you 
 but her. He has driven her to her death. Do you 
 think there is any happiness to be found with such as 
 he? Do you not understand that that hideous crime 
 would stand between you forever and forever ? Should 
 you not see the agony of that betrayed girl every 
 time that you glanced into his false face? Do you 
 not know that it would poison every hour of your 
 life until existence would become a curse?” 
 
 “But if I had not known.” 
 
 The voice was so hoarse, so filled with anguish, that 
 even Mrs. Millbourne started, and a little cry escaped 
 her. 
 
 “Would you have wished that?” she asked, with 
 dull horror. “Do you think that God would allow a 
 crime like that to go unpunished, unavenged, always ? 
 Do you believe that it would have been possible for 
 you to have gone ail your life without knowing, and 
 would you have wished it, even had it been possible? 
 Oh, child, you do not know yourself! It is the horror 
 that is upon you now, the hideous suffering in the 
 death of your respect for a man whom you have loved. 
 You would have discovered all some day, and then 
 what would your agony have been like?” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 20 : 
 
 And men Geraldine Kingman remembered her sus¬ 
 picions that were confirmed now. All those awful 
 things that she had feared were true. Should she be 
 able to face the years with that bitter knowledge of 
 her husband’s frightful guilt before her always? Ij 
 wonder if any of us have ever confronted a more: 
 hideous experience?” 
 
 She stood for some time in stony silence, unable 
 to speak under the excess of her most cruel emotion; 
 then, with the letter still in her hand, she said, 
 brokenly: 
 
 “Will you leave me now? There is nothing more 
 that you wish to tell me, is there?” 
 
 The question seemed to cut Mrs. Millbourne to the 
 heart. 
 
 “No,” she answered, heavily. “Heaven knows, I 
 wish I could have spared you this!” 
 
 “Please don’t say anything more about it. You 
 thought you were doing your duty, and you were. Of 
 course I shall see by and by that it was best; but you 
 will understand how hard it is just now. I don’t want 
 to be cruel, but—” 
 
 Her lips seemed to have grown too stiff for her to 
 complete her sentence. Mrs. Millbourne did not ap-( 
 proach a step nearer to her, but a great longing filled 
 her eyes. 
 
 “You will learn to forgive me some day,” she said, 
 yearningly. “I have loved you next to my own child. 
 .When you'have forgiven me, come to me or send for 
 me. I shall know no contentment until you do so. 
 Good-bye.” 
 
 “Wait!” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 203 
 
 Tiie exclamation seemed to come mechanically, 
 then Miss Kingman paused to recollect what she had 
 desired to say. Memory seemed to return, after an 
 uncomfortable pause. 
 
 "I wanted to ask you,” she said, slowly, “to remain 
 at home until you hear from me. I don’t know what 
 I shall w r ant to say to you, but I should like to know, 
 that you will be there w T hen I come.” 
 
 J “I shall be there.” 
 
 “Forgive me if I have hurt you.” 
 
 “Ah! it is I who should ask forgiveness, for it is 
 I who have brought the pain.” 
 
 “Never mind. We shall both understand it all 
 better the next time we meet. I am very wrong, but 
 • I have not meant to be cruel. Good-bye.” 
 
 She did not offer her hand. There were many 
 things that Mrs. Millbourne would have liked to have 
 said, but her tongue seemed tied in face of the suffer¬ 
 ing that she but too readily read in that noble 
 countenance. 
 
 “God bless and comfort you!” she whispered, then 
 turned and walked unsteadily from the room. 
 
 The fire upon the hearth was growing low. 
 Mechanically Miss Kingman walked over to it, and, 
 taking the brass poker from its rack, stirred the 
 embers to a blaze. She sat down upon the rug where 
 the warmth might reach her, but the very blood in her 
 veins seemed stagnated. 
 
 Under the awful suffering that was paralyzing her 
 she was trying to see her duty through inclination; 
 but she was too honest a woman to deceive herself. 
 
 She loved Hilliard—had loved him ail her life with 
 the entire strength of a powerful nature—and she had 
 
204 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 never perhaps loved him before as she did at that 
 moment It is the pitiful contradiction of the human 
 heart that it loves most that which it can not possess* 
 and her yearning was exquisite agony. 
 
 “What shall I do?” she whispered again and again, 
 without finding an answer to her own query—“what 
 shall I do?” 
 
 Then there was a long period of silence in which 
 the torture seemed too great even to admit of thought. 
 All the daylight had died away, and only the very fit¬ 
 ful glow of the fire fell upon her, making the scene 
 weird and spectral. Her face was bowed upon her 
 knee, and then, with it buried there, a wild cry went 
 up from her heart 
 
 “Oh, my darling,” she moaned, “I can not—can not 
 give you up!” 
 
 There was an oppressive silence after that, broken 
 at last by a light footfall in the hall, and an instant 
 afterward the portiere was lifted, and Ballard Hilliard 
 stood there in the comparative darkness. 
 
 Chx\pter XXXIII. 
 
 Ballard Hilliard had called Miss Kingman’s name 
 twice, and still she had not heard. Fearing he dared 
 not think what, he stooped over and lifted her in his 
 arms. She uttered a feeble cry and shrunk away, 
 but he placed her in a chair and knelt beside her. He 
 would scarcely have recognized the drawn, haggard 
 countenance that faced him. 
 
 Fie looked at her for seme moments in stunned 
 silence, then exclaimed; 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 205 
 
 w Good heavens, Jerry! what is it that has happened 
 to you? Why have you deceived me? .Why have 
 you told me that there was nothing distressing you, 
 and then allow me to return and find you like this? 
 ISpeak to me, dear, and tell me this dreadful thing.” 
 
 Could she doubt the earnestness of that handsome 
 face? She groaned aloud as the memory of all she 
 had suffered and was to suffer still came to her. She 
 covered her eyes with her trembling hands and did 
 not reply. 
 
 i “Jerry,” Hilliard cried, “you are driving me half 
 mad! Is it that you do not trust me that you refuse 
 to speak ? At least answer something!” < 
 
 i “What is there to say?” she asked, her voice un¬ 
 recognizably hoarse; “and how shall I say it? Ballard, 
 I have seen Mrs. Millbourne!” 
 
 She spoke those last words in an awful whisper, 
 and was startled at his wondering reply. 
 
 “Well?” 
 
 “Is not that enough?” 
 
 “Enough for what?” 
 
 “Is it possible that you don’t know? Or are you 
 (Trying to deceive me further?” 
 
 “I don’t in the very least understand you. .When 
 did you see Mrs. Millbourne?” 
 
 I “Now—today.” 
 
 “And what did she tell you?” 
 
 “Everything.” 
 
 “But what is everything? You are speaking in 
 enigmas to me, Jerry. I see you in this terrible state 
 of excitement and grief, and the only explanation 
 that you have to make to me is that Mrs. Millbourne 
 has been here and told you everything. I am as 
 
206 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 much in the dark as before. Can you teli me nothing 
 further?" 
 
 She was sitting bolt upright in the chair in which, 
 he had placed her, gazing through the faint light 
 into his face with a strained look that was painful. 
 
 “Let me look at you!" she cried, heavily. “Let me 
 look straight into your eyes, Ballard, and see if the 
 man whom I have almost worshipped is capable of 
 such deception as that! Let me—" 
 
 “Jerry, what is it that you are saying?" cried Hill¬ 
 iard, haughtily. “In what have I ever deceived you? 
 iWhat is it that you mean?" 
 
 She lifted herself half off the chair and peered into 
 ills face weirdly. 
 
 “Ask yourself," she whispered. “Look back over 
 all your life and see if there is not something in which 
 you have deceived me. Think, Ballard!" 
 
 He flushed to the very roots of his hair, and she 
 was not slow to see it, even in that dim light. 
 
 “I told you of the one time in ail my life in which 
 I deceived you—or, rather, as much of it as you 
 .would allow me to tell," he stammered. “But Mrs. 
 [Melbourne knows nothing of that. It is a subject 
 that has never been mentioned between us." 
 
 Miss Kingman had fallen back in her chair. She 
 remembered then that she had in reality forbidden 
 him to speak to her upon that subject. Was it so 
 much his fault, then? What was she to think? How 
 was she to act? She moistened her parched Ups, and 
 endeavored to nerve herself to the hardest ordeal that 
 she had ever been called upon to endure. Then* 
 before she began, she arose and rang for lights. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 20 7] 
 
 Hilliard had never seen her like that before, but 
 the change awed him* He watched her in silence 
 until she sat down before him again, and he knew 
 that the subject was opened. 
 
 “Ballard,” she said, slowly, “I see now that I was 
 wrong. I see that there should be no unexplained 
 circumstances in the lives of those that expect to pass 
 through years in the closest companionship that God 
 allows to mortals. But it is not too late, and I am 
 ready to listen to you. Will you tell me all the truth?” 
 
 He was speechless for a moment, striving to decide 
 in his own mind what had brought all this about; 
 but, unable to discover any reason, he sat down and 
 drew his chair opposite to hers. His countenance 
 was contracted with pain. 
 
 “You mean the story of my—association with 
 Carroll Melbourne?” he asked, heavily. 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “I hoped that subject was buried between us for¬ 
 ever,” he said, wearily; “but it must be as you will. 
 The greatest sorrow of my life surrounds that time. 
 I have not endeavored to conceal that fact from you. 
 Is it your wish that I should begin at the beginning 
 and tell you a connected story?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 It seemed that she was unable to utter more than 
 the monosyllable, and that in the shortest of gasps. 
 Hilliard looked at her closely, then with eyes still 
 fixed upon her face he began, speaking slowly, and 
 striving after a calmness that cut her to the soul. 
 For the first time she seemed really to realize what 
 Carroll had been to him. He apparently forgot the 
 
•208 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 presence of his promised wife as he proceeded with 
 the story, but rambled on as if he were living in that 
 past that had been so unspeakably sweet to him. He 
 went on to the day when he had heard of her last, and 
 as he concluded his head dropped upon his hands and 
 an awful groan escaped him. He was suffering again 
 as he had suffered in those days that were gone, and 
 she knew it. She watched him in silence for some 
 time, the sobs in her throat almost strangling her. Of 
 all the grief that her life had ever known that moment 
 held the greatest. But it mastered her. 
 
 She rose at last and placed her hand upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 “Ballard,” she said, gently, “have you told me—• 
 everything? Is there nothing more to add?” 
 
 He lifted his face, distorted with agony. 
 
 “I have told you all that I can,” he answered, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 “Why can you tell me nothing further?” 
 
 “I can not answer.” 
 
 “Then let me answer for you. Read that letter.” 
 
 She placed the letter in his hands and went to the 
 other end of the room, while he read. She was trying 
 to think what she ought to do, trying to subdue the! 
 ghastly pain at her heart but it was a useless endeavor. ; 
 She returned and stood like a statue with her hand 
 upon the back of his chair. 
 
 He lifted his ashen face. 
 
 “Well?” he said, hoarsely. 
 
 “Is that true, Ballard?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 There was a long silence. She did not know how 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 209 
 
 foolishly she had hoped until then. A low cry, quickly 
 suppressed, like that which follows a stab of pain, 
 fell from her lips. Then the calmness of death came 
 over her. 
 
 “Why did you not tell me? 55 
 
 “Do you think that I ever should?” he inquired, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 “But you meant to make her your wife?” 
 
 “Before Heaven—yes!” 
 
 “Did you—did you ever suspect the reason why 
 —she went away, Ballard?” 
 
 “It was because she knew that I would never give 
 her up, and because she was determined that she 
 would not come between you and me.” 
 
 A spasm contracted Miss Kingman's face. How; 
 much more noble, more self-sacrificing that child had 
 been than she! She wanted to do everything then 
 to make up for even the wrong of a momentary intern 
 tion. She bent forward eagerly. 
 
 “But could you see no other reason?” 
 
 “No.” 
 
 “Think, think, Ballard!” 
 
 He started up with a low cry of horror. 
 
 “You don't mean—” 
 
 “Yes I do—yes!” 
 
 “Good God!” 
 
 She never forgot the expression of his countenance 
 then. There was almost insanity in it. She went up; 
 and soothingly placed her hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 “You must not excite yourself so!” she cried. 
 “You must—” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 210 
 
 But apparently he had not heard her. 
 
 “What a scoundrel I have been 1” he gasped. “God 
 In heaven 1 what punishment do I not deserve for the 
 Sorrow and shame that I brought into that poor child’s 
 life! I am more her murderer than if I hkd struck the| 
 blow that placed her in her coffin! Oh, Carroll!' 
 Carroll!” 
 
 She had never heard such grief expressed in the 
 mere calling of a name. He concealed his face and 
 Sobbed horribly. 
 
 “Ballard!” she cried, heavily, “don’t do that! It 
 is not quite so bad as you think. I can not tell you 
 yet, but— Come away with me now, tonight. There 
 is something that must be done at once. I can not 
 itell you yet, but—” 
 
 Her manner startled him even out of his terrible 
 paroxysm of grief. He turned and caught her by the 
 shoulders. 
 
 “What is it that you mean?” he cried. “For 
 [Heaven’s sake, speak quickly! I am almost mad!” 
 
 She hesitated. She did not know how much she 
 ought to tell him just then. 
 
 “Come with me to Philadelphia tonight,” she said,; 
 pleadingly. 
 
 “For what?” j 
 
 “Don’t ask me. I can not tell you now, but you 
 shall know tomorrow.” 
 
 “I must know now—now!” 
 
 “Then— Be quiet, Ballard. You are trembling so, 
 dear.” 
 
 “But—” 
 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 211 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 t 
 
 ] 
 
 A I think—mind you, Ballard, I don’t say anything 
 except that I think—but it may be that I have seen 
 ■*—your child!” 
 
 Chapter XXXIV. 
 
 It was with a heavy heart that Harry Winter left 
 Carroll alone in that room with her dead baby. 
 
 “Poor child!” he muttered. “There is little enough 
 that any of can do for her now. She may have erred, 
 but there was never a woman who has been more 
 cruelly punished. I never saw a purer or more inno¬ 
 cent face. I am quite convinced that there has been 
 some horrible mistake. I don’t believe that she is 
 guilty of the wrong that is ascribed to her. And how 
 she suffers! She needs the tender sympathy of a 
 woman. It is only a woman who would know how 
 to speak the words that she needs to hear. But who 
 is to speak them? If Miss Kingman were only— 
 Why not send for.her? She is only a little way off. 
 jl shall go for her myself. It can do no harm. She 
 is so gentle, so tender, so womanly. I wonder that 
 I did not think of it long ago. I shall go at once, early 
 as it is.” 
 
 } To think with Doctor Winter was to act. He took 
 his hat and crushed it down over his eyes, then walked 
 hastily down the street. I-Ie paused before the hand¬ 
 some residence, and mounting the stoop, pulled the 
 
 bell. 
 
212 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 The servants were just beginning to move silently 
 through the great house. One answered the summons. 
 
 “I want to see Miss Kingman,” exclaimed Doctor 
 [Winter, who was known to the girl. “Don’t disturb 
 any one else in the house, but tell her— Wait—I 
 will write a line upon my card.” 
 
 . He selected a card, then scribbled upon it: 
 
 “Will you come with me to see our little friend? 
 She is in great distress and needs you. Will explain 
 when I see you, but don’t lose any time.” 
 
 , The girl took it. 
 
 Miss Kingman had left New York the night before 
 with Ballard Hilliard, but not considering it either 
 advisable or prudent to go to the hotel, had gone to 
 the home of her friends. She sprung out of bed 
 when she had read the note that the servant had 
 aroused her to deliver, and dressed herself hurriedly 
 !for the street. She did not pause to greet Doctor 
 Winter when she joined him, but asked: 
 
 “What is the matter? What has happened?” 
 
 “The child is dead!” 
 
 “Dead!” she gasped. “When?” 
 
 “A few minutes ago, of spasms. That poor child 
 ■—I scarcely know what to think of her. I have never 
 seen any one in such a state. She needs some woman 
 friend, and I thought of you.” 
 
 Miss Kingman did not reply. She had quite re¬ 
 covered herself, and hurried almost into a run down 
 the street. Her thoughts were busy, but not a w'ord 
 did she speak upon that quick walk. 
 
 “Is she in here?” she asked, as she paused bef^e 
 the door that she knew led to Carroll’s room. 
 
 “Ye«.” 
 
A (LITTLE PRINCESS 213 
 
 She did not knock for admission, but opened it 
 Softly and entered. 
 
 A hoarse cry escaped her as the tableau met her eye. 
 
 The baby lay upon the bed, and by its side stood the 
 frantic mother, with a half smile upon her lips, and 
 that fatal bottle clasped in her hands. She had not 
 heard the opening of the door, and lifted it to her lips 
 as Geraldine Kingman entered. 
 
 With a single bound Miss Kingman had reached 
 her. She caught the hand that would have taken life, 
 and the bottle fell to the door, smashing at Carroll’s 
 feet. 
 
 She looked from the spilled liquid to Miss King¬ 
 man’s face almost vacantty. 
 
 “See what you have done!” she said, dully. “It is 
 all gone now, and my little Princess can not wait much 
 longer.” 
 
 “What would you do?” gasped Miss Kingman. 
 “Do you not know—” 
 
 She could not finish her sentence for the horror 
 that was upon her. Carroll moaned. 
 
 “What shall I do?” she asked, helplessly. “What 
 shall I do? Oh, why did you come? Why did you?” 
 
 Miss Kingman took the little figure in her arms 
 and held her closely as if she were a tiny, grieving 
 child. All the nobility of her great nature was re¬ 
 stored. She felt that she could never do enough to 
 show her appreciation for the great sacrifice that girl 
 had made for her. Pier life would have seemed a 
 small recompense at that moment. 
 
 “My darling!” she whispered, “what was it that 
 you intended to do? Don’t you know that that was 
 
2K 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 wicked ? Don’t you know that God would have 
 punished you through all eternity for taking that 
 which is His ? Don’t you know that you would never 
 have seen the face of your little one in the life that 
 is to come? Is it not better to wait for a time, in 
 order that you may be rejoined in that new life in 
 which, there is no death and no separation?” 
 
 Carroll drew back and gazed at her in silence for 
 a time, then burst into tears. Miss Kingman let her 
 weep without reproof until her tears had ceased to 
 flow. 
 
 “It is so hard!” she moaned—“so hard! What is 
 there in life to live for? How can I face all the dread¬ 
 ful years of torture alone?” 
 
 “But you will not face it alone, my darling,” said 
 Miss Kingman, tenderly. “There is one who loves 
 you—who is waiting even now to ask your forgive¬ 
 ness for the great wrong that he has done you. Do 
 you think there will be no happiness for you, Carroll, 
 in being Ballard Hilliard’s wife?” 
 
 The haggard eyes were lifted. There was a moment 
 of painful silence, then Carroll whispered: 
 
 “ What is it that you mean ?” 
 
 “That you are to be happy, my dearest, in spite off 
 all your suffering. Ballard does not know yet that | 
 you live ; but he is here in this town waiting for me 
 to bring him to you—waiting to see his child.” 
 
 Carroll shuddered. 
 
 “But you will not tell him! Remember that I 
 hold your promise to tell no one—no one at all!” 
 
 “Would you keep a father from the sight of his 
 dead child?” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 215 
 
 Carroll drew back. 
 
 “What do you mean?” she whispered, hoarsely. 
 
 “That I know all—all the generous, noble sacrifice 
 that you have made for me, and all the suffering that 
 2 have caused you, my darling! Oh, Carroll, could 
 you not have understood that nothing under heaven 
 : could have induced me to come between you and the 
 man who loved you? You will be Ballards wife 
 now, and—” 
 
 1 “No, no, no! You don’t understand! I never 
 Could do that—never!” 
 
 "Why not?” 
 
 “Can’t you see? You have been the best tire only 
 friend we have ever known. Do you think that I 
 would rob you of the man w T hom you love? Do you 
 think I would take from you the man who tor years 
 has been your promised husband?” 
 
 “Not when you know that I never shall be his 
 wife ?” 
 
 “Not even then, because you love him!” 
 
 There was a resolution in the sad voice time Miss 
 Kingman knew could, not be shaken; but now that 
 the two women had entered upon a contest of self- 
 sacrifice Miss Kingman determined that nothing 
 should stand between her and the end that she had 
 in view. She felt that to see Ballard Hiliiard and 
 .Carroll happy would in some measure expiate the sin 
 that she had committed in thought if not in reality— 
 the sin of separating those two who loved each other, 
 and all her nature was aroused in the endeavor. 
 
 There was an anguish in the white face that Carroll 
 Was too heart-broken to see, but the voice was almost 
 steady as she said, softly: 
 
216 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 “But suppose that I should tell you that I do not 
 love him?” 
 
 “I would not believe you,” she said, quiveringly. 
 
 “But suppose I could prove it to you?” 
 
 “You could not do that,” she said, miserably. “Oh, 
 iMiss Kingman! if you have any pity, don't torture 
 me!” 
 
 “Do you know me so little that you think I could? 
 1 am going to prove to you that—Ballard Hilliard is 
 —nothing to me!” 
 
 What it cost her to utter those words no one ever 
 knew, but they were spoken quietly, almost cheerfully. 
 
 “How?” whispered Carroll. 
 
 “By showing you the gentleman whose wife I have 
 promised to be.” 
 
 There was a certain rigidity about the white lips 
 that gave evidence of the woman’s agony; but even 
 that passed away as she opened the door and signaled 
 Harry Winter, who still stood without, to enter. 
 
 He came at her silent cal!, and going forward, placed 
 his hand upon Carroll’s head. She gazed from one 
 to the other in bewilderment. 
 
 “This is the gentleman of whom I was speaking,” 
 said Miss Kingman, with an imploring glance in 
 Winter’s* direction. “Doctor Winter, will you not 
 assure Carroll that I am your betrothed wife?” 
 
 The look of astonishment upon Winter’s coun¬ 
 tenance gave place to one of deep pain. The eyes of 
 both women were upon him, the one in mute, terribly 
 agitated inquiry, the other in pleading that he could 
 not comprehend. What was he to say? His lips 
 grew white as death as he replied: 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 217 [ 
 
 “If it is your desire that I should do so, then I am 
 ready.” 
 
 Miss Kingman swayed for a moment, but recovered 
 herself before Winter had reached her side. She 
 smiled at him, but it was piteously weak. Then they 
 both turned to Carroll, who had slipped from her 
 chair and lay there upon the bare floor with a 
 strangely white face. 
 
 “She has fainted!” exclaimed the doctor, as he 
 lifted her up in his arms and placed her upon the bed 
 beside the dead infant. 
 
 “We must remove it before she recovers conscious¬ 
 ness,” said Miss Kingman, gently. “Poor, suffering, 
 noble child! How we have all wronged her! There 
 is a message that must be sent at once. Will you see 
 that it is delivered ?” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 “May I have a leaf from your note-book?” 
 
 He gave her a prescription blank and a pencil, and 
 she scribbled: 
 
 “Dear Ballard,— Come at once with messenger. 
 Be prepared for a terrible shock. A great sorrow and 
 a greater joy av/aits you. Don’t delay. 
 
 “Geraldine.” 
 
 With trembling hands she confided it to Doctor 
 Winter, after holding it up for his inspection. He 
 could not comprehend the situation, but he knew 
 that it would be explained to him in time, and, leaving 
 her there to await him, he went from the room with 
 the message. 
 
218 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Chapter XXXV. 
 
 Early as it was when the messenger sent by Harry 
 jWinter to Ballard Hilliard’s hotel arrived, the latter 
 Was already dressed, and was endeavoring to swallow 
 a few morsels that had been set before him for 
 breakfast. 
 
 ! The mysterious conduct of Geraldine Kingman 
 the night before had prevented his sleeping. She had 
 explained nothing; but he would have been more than 
 obtuse not to have seen that there was something much 
 beyond the ordinary in her concealed meaning. He 
 scarcely dared attempt to guess what it all meant, 
 and yet his heart told him that some great change had 
 come into his life. Every sort of theory that the 
 'fanciful brain of man could invent he had considered 
 as the explanation of her conduct, but each was as 
 promptly rejected as conceived. 
 
 “I am allowing myself to hope for too much,” he 
 told himself again and again, striving to curb his own 
 eagerness. “The reaction will be so great that it can 
 not be endured when I find how I have really per¬ 
 mitted my imagination to run riot over reason. 
 Women are all sensational. Poor Jerry! How she 
 has suffered through me! Ah, God! What happiness 
 do I deserve? What grief have I not brought upon 
 the two women that I would have given my life to 
 protect from harm? How noble and generous they 
 both have been, and how little I have deserved the 
 love of either.” 
 
 He leaned his head upon his hand and groaned as 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 213 
 
 he looked down into his plate. He felt that he could 
 not bear the uncertainty much longer, that he must 
 demand some explanation from her, let the hour be 
 what it might. He was rising from the breakfast- 
 table with that determination well defined, when the 
 messenger addressed him. 
 
 “You are Mr. Ballard Hilliard?” 
 
 “I am.” 
 
 “There is a letter, and I am to take you with me 
 as an answer.” 
 
 There was no envelope upon it, and very hastily 
 Hilliard cast his eye over the contents. A vivid flush 
 arose to his brow, followed suddenly by a pallor that 
 was alarming. What could it be that she meant? he 
 asked himself. He did not pause to answer his own 
 query, but hurried after the messenger. 
 
 “Is it far?” he asked. 
 
 “ ’Bout half a mile.” 
 
 There was a coupe standing at the door of the 
 hotel. Hilliard sprung in. 
 
 “Give the order to the coachman,” he cried to 
 the boy, “and tell him to drive fast for double 
 money!” 
 
 The boy obeyed, then sprung in and closed the door. 
 
 Under the tempting promise, the driver was not 
 many minutes in reaching the address that had been 
 given, and wondering greatly at the poverty of the 
 surroundings to which Miss Kingman had summoned 
 him, Hilliard leaped to the ground, and, ordering the 
 ^oachman to wait, ran up the few steps. 
 
 The door was opened by Miss Kingman herself. 
 
 ^Ter face was very pafe, but there was a smile in her 
 
220 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 eyes for all that which reassured him. He caught her 
 hand and pressed it with a force of which he was 
 unaware. 
 
 “For God's sake, Jerry, don't keep me in sus- ? 
 pense!” he exclaimed, huskily. “Tell me what is it 
 you mean, and what has happened ?” 
 
 “But you must be calm first,” cried Miss Kingman, 
 her own voice trembling between a hysterical laugh j 
 and cry. “Everything depends upon your calmness.” 1 
 
 “Don't, don't! The suspense is maddening!” 
 
 “But it is for her sake, Ballard!” 
 
 “Hers? Whose?” 
 
 “Carroll's!” 
 
 He staggered against the door. For a moment the 
 frightful pallor of his face alarmed her, but the next 
 a wild joy had illumined his eyes such as she had 
 never seen expressed by any countenance. 
 
 “Carroll!” he whispered. “You could not be cruel 
 enough to deceive me like that! Explain to me quick¬ 
 ly, for the love of Heaven!” 
 
 A faintness, a giddiness oppressed Miss Kingman's 
 heart, but it was but momentary; then all the old 
 generous self-sacrifice returned. She put up her hand 
 and touched his cheek caressingly. 
 
 “She is not dead, Ballard, as we all thought,” she 
 said, gently. “There was—a—a secret that she con¬ 
 cealed even from you! It is a very sad time for Car- 
 roll, dear, in spite of the fact that she knows of the 
 happiness that is in store for her, because—you must 
 be very brave for her sake, Ballard, for Carroll has 
 suffered even more than you think. Her—child is— 
 dead!” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 221 
 
 He did not speak. His pallid lips seemed incapable 
 of articulation. He stood there staring at her help¬ 
 lessly for a long time, then in a dull, stupid sort of 
 way he said, almost quietly: 
 j 1 “Take me to her.” 
 
 ) She turned away and opened the door. Then she 
 closed it again behind him, and he was alone with 
 the woman who had been the one love of his life. 
 
 She was lying upon the bed with her head propped 
 up with pillows, her great hollow, haggard eyes fixed 
 upon the door. That same bleak despair that had 
 characterized her expression v 7 as still there; but as 
 she recognized the figure that had come through the 
 door she tried to raise herself. The effort was too 
 great. She flung out her arms, the low gasping cry 
 reaching only him, and the next moment she was in 
 his arms, pressed closely to his madly beating heart. 
 
 There were no v r ords between them. They were 
 both weeping, their tears mingling as their lips met 
 and clung together. Then w r hen their agitation had 
 been somewhat controlled, Hilliard whispered, 
 brokenly: 
 
 “My love, my wife, how we have both suffered!” 
 
 “God never yet let a sin go unpunished, Ballard,” 
 she faltered. “We have no right to complain. Have 
 they told you—” 
 
 ) She could not finish the sentence; but he knew 
 from the grief in her sweet eyes that she referredTo 
 the death of her baby. He drew her closer to him 
 and held her lips to his cheek. 
 
 “Not all, darling, but enough to make me under¬ 
 stand what a curse I have been to your pure life. 
 Can you ever forgive me, CarroK?” 
 
222 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 I' “I told you long ago that there must be no talk 
 of that between us. God has forgiven, and He has 
 sent the sweet signal of pardon in you. Oh, my love, 
 tny love! I could not have borne life longer without 
 you. The burden had grown too great. I have been 
 a terrible coward. I could not even hope when they 
 told me that you were coming. I can scarcely believe 
 that you are here now, though I feel the throb of your 
 heart against my own.” 
 
 | “But it is all true, my little Princess.” 
 
 She started. The old sweet name had brought back 
 the memory of her great loss to her. She tried to 
 rise, but he was forced to lift her. 
 
 , “What is it, sweetheart?” he whispered. 
 
 I “We must go to—her! Oh, Ballard, if you could 
 only have seen her once in life I might have been 
 Content.” 
 
 i “Hush, love! We must not question the will of 
 jGod. Are you strong enough to bear it?” 
 
 I “Yes!” 
 
 1 He lifted her from the bed and supported her with’ 
 his strong arm. She was very frail, very weak, and 
 his heart ached as he saw the terrible changes in her 
 that suffering had wrought; but she was even moref. 
 beautiful to him than ever, and it seemed to him*' 
 that, much as he had loved her in the old time, he had 
 not known the meaning of love till now. 
 
 She indicated the way, and he half carried her to 
 the room in which she knew they had placed the little 
 form that they were so soon to lose forever. 
 
 They had placed it upon a little cot, and together 
 that father and mother knelt beside the body of their 
 child. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 223 
 
 When the first grief had subsided, Hilliard rose 
 and took the little dead thing in his arms, holding 
 his baby for the first time to his breast. Very ten¬ 
 derly he brushed the soft golden hair back from the 
 delicate brow and pressed his lips upon the tiny 
 mouth, murmuring unheard words of love. ; 
 
 Carroll sat there upon the floor with her great, 
 grief-stricken eyes fixed upon them, thinking what a 
 radiant joy it would have been had that tender heart 
 but known that it was her father who held her, that 
 it was her father who whispered those precious words* 
 !A. quivering sob escaped her, and laying the tiny thing 
 gently back upon the couch, Hilliard lifted Carroll 
 and took her to the room that they had left. j: 
 
 “It was very bitter, darling,” he whispered, “bufi 
 God knows best. The world would have been very 
 cruel to her, dear heart, because of the sin of her 
 father. You must remember that, and understand 
 that it is best for her sake.” 
 
 But in the first wild grief a mother never can seg 
 the justice in the sacrifice. 
 
 Chapter XXXVI. 
 
 There was a long consultation half an hour later 
 between Ballard Hilliard and Geraldine Kingman, 
 Carroll was present, but she took no part in it, lying 
 quietly upon the bed with her hand clasped tenderly 
 in his. If there was a pang of jealousy in Miss King¬ 
 man’s heart, it was carefully concealed, and her coun- 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 224 
 
 tenance was as clear as an unclouded sky as she 
 talked. 
 
 If Hilliard wondered at this, he was too wise a 
 man to speak. Naturally he had not forgotten her 
 grief of the night before, but it seemed to him then 
 that it was more mourning for the shattering of an 
 ideal than suffering over the blow dealt her love. 
 The thought comforted him, and he preserved it. 
 
 “You wish my advice as to what is best to do?” 
 she asked, with a smile. 
 
 “Yes,” he answered, gratefully. “We owe so much 
 to you that—” 
 
 “Hush! You owe me nothing. I have cost you 
 a year of suffering the most intense, and it seems to 
 me now that I can never do enough to erase it. But 
 we will let that go. I thank Heaven that I was the 
 innocent rather than the guilty cause. Now here is 
 my plan. If you don't like it, don’t hesitate to say 
 so.” 
 
 “It is sure to be the best and most generous.” ; ; 
 
 “Wait until you have heard before you judge. 
 There is no reason why any one should know the truth 
 t)f this.” 
 
 “I understand,” said Hilliard, an expression of 
 shame coming to his countenance. 
 
 She hurried on: 
 
 “And—and I think it is your desire as well as mine 
 that it should be upon the arm of her husband that 
 Carroll leans when she stands for the last time beside 
 that child whom she so loved.” 
 
 Hilliard looked his gratitude. 
 
 “You know,” continued Miss Kingman, “chat the 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 225 
 
 baby can not be buried from here. We will take it 
 to New York and have the ceremony from my house. 
 Before we have reached the house we will visit a 
 clergyman who is a friend of mine, and to whom I 
 shall telegraph in advance, and you can be quietly 
 married in his office on your way up from the train. 
 There need be no one present except myself and some 
 member of the minister's household who never saw 
 you and will never hear of you again. In that way I 
 am quite sure that we can keep the matter confined 
 to those who already know, and they are sufficiently 
 interested in Carroll to wish to be silent for her sake. 
 In fact, I see no reason why even they should know 
 the real truth. If you will let me tell the story to 
 Harry Winter and to Russell Shannon, there is no 
 reason why I could not arrange it satisfactorily with 
 little trouble. Do you agree ?” 
 
 “Nothing could be better. I don't see how we are 
 to thank you for all the kindness that you are show¬ 
 ing us, Jerry. I have deserved it very little.” 
 
 “We were not to mention that subject’ again, I 
 thought.” 
 
 “Rut how can one be silent?” 
 
 “Do you think that I should not be interested after 
 all these years of brotherly and sisterly affection?” 
 she asked, half averting her face. 
 
 “It sounds so strange to hear you say that,” ex¬ 
 claimed Carroll, softly. “It does not seem possible 
 that all this hideous suffering has been a mistake—• 
 that it was useless from the beginning. Just to think, 
 Ballard! I thought she loved you, and it was dear, 
 generous, great-hearted Doctor Winter all the timet 
 
226 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 She is his betrothed wife, and, oh, I do pray God 
 that you may be happy as you deserve, Miss King* 
 man!” 
 
 She observed the strange flush that had risen tb 
 Miss Kingman’s face, but did not construe it aright. 
 Hilliard had straightened up. 
 
 “Betrothed to Winter, you say?” he almost gaspefi* 
 
 There was a slight pause of embarrassment, then 
 Miss Kingman answered, quietly. 
 
 “Yes. It has been a very great mistake, Ballard* 
 all around I am engaged to Harry.” 
 
 It was not an easy announcement for her to make. 
 Her very soul seemed to contract under the pain of 
 it, but she was repaid for her sacrifice when she saw 
 the expression of gladness upon Hilliard’s- face. 
 
 He sprung up, and, catching her about the waist* 
 kissed her upon the lips. 
 
 “Thank God, Jerry!” he cried, brokenly. “There 
 is nothing that could have given me greater happiness 
 than this. You have been the good angel of my life.” 
 
 “No, the Nemesis, Ballard. But for me you might 
 have been happy months ago. Let me go now, dear. 
 Remember that I have all the arrangements to make, 
 and there is no time to be lost if we are to leave for 
 New York tonight.” 
 
 She left them after that, and they watched her go 
 as they might have watched an angel. Hilliard sus¬ 
 pected more than he cared to acknowledge even to 
 himself, but there could be nothing done, and repining 
 now was useless. He was alone with the single love 
 of his entire life, and in spite of the terrible grief that 
 was upon them in the first hours of their reunion, 
 be was happy- 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 2 27i 
 
 K was in the afternoon of the same day that Doctor* 
 [Winter entered the room where Miss Kingman stood 
 with the undertaker. The latter was upon the point 
 of leaving, and took his departure soon after. Then 
 she turned to Winter. 
 
 “You should have gone to your room to rest after 
 leaving the hospital, instead of coming here,” she said 
 gently. “You are sadly in need of it.” 
 
 “Do you think I could rest until I had seen you?” 
 he said, with an unsuccessful effort to conceal his 
 agitation. “I think this day has been filled with the 
 greatest unrest I have ever known. There has seemed 
 a week in each hour.” 
 
 Miss Kingman's face was slowly alternating from 
 white to crimson. Her hands were trembling, and 
 her lips almost refused to do her bidding as she tried 
 to speak calmly, avoiding the subject to which she 
 knew he referred. 
 
 “It has been a long day, hasn't it?” she asked. 
 “But then there has been so much to do—so much 
 to hear. What would you think if I should tell you 
 that there was a secret marriage long ago between 
 Ballard Hilliard and Carroll?” 
 
 “I should call him no less a contemptible scoundrel 
 than I think him now!” answered Winter, with energy. 
 
 “You must not say that—indeed you must not, for 
 there is no man who deserves it less than Ballard 
 The circumstances that have surrounded him have 
 been most unfortunate, that is all. I can not explain 
 them to you, but when I tell you that I am more than 
 satisfied you will understand that you have misjudged 
 him, will you not?” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 223 
 
 But in spite of her pleading, Winter was not quite 
 convinced. 
 
 “Yet he was engaged to you when he had a wife!” 
 he said, heavily. 
 
 “He thought her dead. The person who we all! 
 believed to he Carroll lies in Woodlawn, where Ballard 
 and I stood side by side to see her buried. He never 
 concealed his love for her from me. There was no 
 deception. I knew that he never loved me. He has 
 suffered as men rarely do. Don’t become a Pharisee S 
 Judge nothing that you do not understand. I am not 
 at liberty to tell you secrets that are not my own, but 
 you will try to believe, will you not ?” 
 
 “I am willing to accept whatever you say is right, 
 because I am utterly in the dark. They have their 
 own reasons, I suppose, for wishing to conceal these 
 things, and I have neither the desire nor the right to 
 pry into them. But there is one part of it which con¬ 
 cerns me very closely, and it is upon that point that 
 I have come to you today. Geraldine, what w r as it 
 that you meant by making the announcement to— 
 shall I say Mrs. Hilliard?—that you did?” 
 
 He paused and looked down upon her, but her eyes 
 were upon the floor, and she did not reply. Herj 
 breathing was not quite regular. Pie understood her 
 embarrassment clearly enough, and took her hand 
 soothingly, tenderly, not quite concealing his own 
 emotions, but succeeding in remaining very quiet. 
 
 “I asked you only a little while ago to be my wife, 
 and you declined,” he said, slowly. “Plave you re¬ 
 considered your answer ? Are you willing to trust me 
 with your future, Jerry?” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 229 
 
 She bravely lifted her eyes to his face. 
 
 “The situation is a most distressing one, Harry,” 
 she answered, hesitatingly. “I am afraid that I have 
 taken a most contemptible advantage of you, and you 
 have the right to withdraw from it if you so desire. 
 The announcement that I made was an impulse in 
 which you were not considered. I see how wrong it 
 was. I wish you would not take that into consideration 
 at all, Harry. I wish that you would forget that I 
 have said that.” 
 
 ■“I don’t think I quite comprehend you. Is it that 
 you wish to withdraw from the unconsidered 
 engagement ?” 
 
 She did not reply; but again her eyes were cast upon 
 the floor. 
 
 A sudden flush dyed Winter’s face. 
 
 “Very well!” he cried, passionately. “So be it. Let 
 us forget all the past. Jerry, will you be my wife? 
 .You know that I love you—you know that I always 
 shall. What is your answer ?” 
 
 There were tears in her eyes as she lifted them 
 gratefully. 
 
 “You are so good, so generous!” she cried, broken¬ 
 ly. “Let me be thoroughly honest, if I can. It is too 
 new yet, Harry, to talk about forgetting the past. I 
 have told you before, and I told the truth. I have no 
 right to tell you that it was all a mistake, for that 
 would be a cruel falsehood. But are you willing to 
 trust me, Harry? Are you willing to wait?” 
 
 “As Jacob did for Rachel.” 
 
 “Then I will be your wife, Harry.” 
 
 There was no great demonstration upon either side. 
 
230 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 He kissed her forehead quietly and pressed her hand* 
 The undertaker came to her for some instructions 
 and she left her betrothed husband to give them. 
 
 Chapter XXXVII. 
 
 There was a quiet wedding in a little parsonage 
 the same evening, in New York, at which only the 
 contracting parties, the clergyman, Miss Kingman, 
 and a person who signed his name Harris Heming- 
 way were present. The last named rather objected, 
 after the old-fashioned idea, to seeing a woman mar¬ 
 ried in black; but Miss Kingman felt sure tha* 
 that would never effect the happiness of Ballard 
 Hilliard’s young wife, and so expressed herself. 
 
 They were driven immediately after the ceremony 
 to Miss Kingman’s residence, when Hilliard himself 
 insisted upon "going after Mrs. Melbourne. Miss 
 Kingman offered to go, but Hilliard would not listen 
 to that, and, taking the same carriage that had brought 
 them, he drove to the old tenement that was to be 
 Millicent Millbourne’s home no longer. ^ 
 
 What occurred there no one ever knew, but Hill¬ 
 iard told Carroll afterward that he had spoken only 
 the truth to her mother. Certain it was that she went 
 back with him to the residence of Miss Kingman. No 
 one saw her meeting with her daughter, and no one 
 asked what took place, but it was upon the arm of 
 her son-in-law that she leaned when she looked for 
 the first and last time upon the face of her grand- 
 rkughter. 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 231 
 
 It was a most pathetic picture, but one in which all 
 saw great happiness in the perspective, in spite of the 
 shadow upon it then. 
 
 The funeral occurred, with strict privacy, next day, 
 the little form being placed by that other one in 
 iWoodlawn over whom they had wept such bitter tears. 
 
 I The story of the private marriage, the subsequent 
 misunderstanding, and the supposed death were told 
 to Mrs. Shannon and Russell, also to all those who 
 had known Carroll during that wretched time, and if 
 there were any doubts upon the subject, those most 
 interested never knew. 
 
 Mrs. Melbourne was established shortly after that 
 in a house that was the property of Ballard Hilliard, 
 and, after being sure of her perfect comfort, he and 
 his wife started away for a tour about the world that 
 Was to last for several months. It was rather difficult 
 for Mrs. Melbourne to lose her daughter so soon after 
 her recovery; but then she knew that it was wisest and 
 best, and said nothing but words of encouragement 
 when the plan was proposed by Hilliard. 
 
 During the hours of leisure and comfort of mind 
 and body that followed Mrs. Millbourne made the 
 translation of the novel that Hilliard had brought her 
 upon that night that she had known the greatest sor¬ 
 row of her life. It proved to be the forerunner of 
 what was afterward a wonderful success in the line 
 of translations. An original novel was added later on 
 in life, and from it today her name stands enrolled 
 most brilliantly prominent in the archives of literature. 
 
 It was not long after the departure of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hilliard that the father of Miss Kingman died. TW^ 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 232 
 
 had been an unusual attachment between the two, and 
 life was exceedingly lonely to her. It was during 
 one of his visits to New York that Harry Winter 
 observed the emptiness of her life, and, while he had 
 resolved never to urge her to become his wife, but to 
 allow her to take her own time, he could bear it no 
 longer, and broke the pledge he had made himself. 
 
 He urged upon her only the companionship of which 
 she was standing so much in need, and she accepted 
 it. He went back to Philadelphia, resigned his posi¬ 
 tion there, and, with very little preparation, there was 
 another wedding. Hilliard and Carroll were still 
 absent, which was as Miss Kingman would have 
 desired. 
 
 Then they, too, went abroad, remaining for more 
 than a year. The companionship was close enough, 
 but a wedding like that is a most dangerous thing, 
 a fact which Geraldine realized painfully after mar¬ 
 riage. She hesitated to go to her husband, who was 
 nothing more than her brother, after all, with any of 
 the affairs that concerned her, lest he misunderstand 
 or misconstrue her. It was the silence which he mis¬ 
 understood, and a coldness, a formality sprung up 
 between them that effectually froze the sweet intimacy 
 of the marriage tie. 
 
 They neither had the courage to propose a return 
 home, and a time of as great misery as either had 
 ever known had come upon them. Winter was all 
 that she could have desired, in so far as his attentions 
 were concerned, but they were the attentions of the 
 courteous stranger, and not the lover. 
 
 Wcman-like, the great change, which was con* 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 233 
 
 'stantly growing, cut her to the heart, and she began 
 to yearn for the demonstrations that he had shown 
 her at first. From the small acknowledgement to her 
 own heart, to the ultimate realization that she was 
 passionately in love with him, was the work of months, 
 and months of thorough unhappiness to them both. 
 ' They were in a far distant land upon the anniver¬ 
 sary of their marriage, but the memories that the day 
 brought were not mentioned between them when the 
 evening came. They were seated in the same room, 
 .Winter pretending to read, and his wife gazing from 
 a window at something which she could not see, when 
 the silence and the yearning grew too great to be 
 borne. She rose suddenly with an energy that was 
 born of despair, intending to end all then and there, 
 but the sight of his emotionless face stopped her. 
 
 The sudden movement, the start, the stop attracted 
 him. He glanced up. The quivering countenance in 
 that usually impassive face startled him. Fie laid his 
 paper aside and arose. 
 
 “What is it, Geraldine?” he asked, quietly. “Are 
 you not well?” 
 
 The sound of the voice loosened all the flood-gates 
 of her misery. 
 
 “No,” she cried, “I am not well! I want to go 
 home. Why do you not take me ? It is all too utterly 
 wretched to be borne longer. I tell you that I shall 
 die under it! Take me home, and I promise you that 
 you shall never be distressed again with the sight of 
 a face that has grown hateful to you!” 
 
 “Geraldine!” 
 
 “Let me finish while I can. I know that J did 
 
234 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 wrong to almost force you into that engagement witli 
 me, and I have received nothing that I have not de¬ 
 served, but surely it is enough. I can’t tell you how 
 I have suffered—how I am suffering! Oh, Harry, 
 take me home! I will keep my word to you, let the 
 post be what it may !” 
 
 He was upon his feet. There was grief and shame 
 blended in his expression. He took her hand and very, 
 gently forced her into a seat. Once or twice he 
 walked up and down the floor to regain his com¬ 
 posure, listening to the sound of her convulsive weep¬ 
 ing; then he returned and stood with his hand upon 
 the back of her chair, looking sadly down upon her. 
 
 “ Jerry, 1 ” he said, softly, calling her by the old name 
 for the first time in months, “I can not tell you what 
 this has cost me. I have seen for some time how; 
 utterly miserable you have been, and I have wanted 
 to suggest that we return home, but I did not know 
 how to frame the suggestion in a way that you would 
 not misunderstand. God knows, if I had ever guessed 
 that our marriage was to end in this way, I would 
 have sacrificed my life before forcing it upon you as 
 I did. I deluded myself into the belief that I could 
 win your love, when I see now that I was taking thef 
 shortest way to make you despise me. I wish I could • 
 make you understand my position. I wish I could 
 make you see how bitterly I regret the past, but that 
 is impossible. It is but natural that you should have 
 only the hardest, most cruel thoughts of me, and when 
 I try to say anything to convince you that I am not 
 the creature you have imagined me, my tongue seems 
 tied, and I can say nothing.” 
 
A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 235 
 
 Her tears had ceased, and she was staring up at 
 him with an astonishment which he could not translate. 
 
 She turned in her chair and put her hand upon his. 
 His fingers closed spasmodically over her own. 
 f “What are you saying, Harry?” she asked, in a 
 queer tone. “Do you mean that you are so blind that 
 you think still that I do not love you ?” 
 
 | A boyish flush leaped to his brow. 
 
 ; “Don’t torture me!” he said, little above a whisper. 
 “You know that the one passion of my life has been 
 given to you, and—” 
 
 | “That it died?” 
 
 ' She almost held her breath for his reply to her half 
 assertion, half interrogation. 
 
 “Died!” he ejaculated, hoarsely. “When? I don’t 
 Want to trouble you with my feelings, but yet neither 
 Would I have you believe that which is so untrue. I 
 don’t ask for anything in return now, because I see 
 that it is so cruelly impossible, but I have never loved 
 you as I do at this moment.” 
 
 She was upon her feet before him, and a single ex-* 
 elamation had fallen from her lips. It was: 
 
 “Oh, Harry!” 
 
 But there was such a world of expression in it that 
 he peered into her face with a curious start; then, 
 when he had seen, he caught her hand in a grasp that 
 was painful. 
 
 “Speak to me quickly!” he gasped. “What is it 
 that you mean? This is exquisite torture, so don’t 
 keep me in suspense!” 
 
 “We have been so blind,” she said. “Do you think 
 that God always darkens a life that He shadows? Oh, 
 
236 
 
 A LITTLE PRINCESS 
 
 Harry, I have believed that you had grown to despise 
 xne, and it almost broke my heart, because I love you!” 
 “My wife!” 
 
 There is little left to tell. 
 
 During their voyage home, there was another heir 
 born to the Hilliard estate—another girl, called this 
 time Geraldine Kingman Hilliard, and a right welcome 
 addition she is to the household, the spoiled idol of 
 her fond grandmamma. It is a joyous reunion in 
 which there is no shadow of regret upon the part of 
 any one, and Harry Winter is not that last to realize 
 that happy fact. 
 
 Russell Shannon is the only wanderer. 
 
 He. never married, but devoted his life to his. 
 mother, and now that the years have softened the 
 sting of bitterness connected with his love, he visits 
 the Hilliards and his former brother-in-law fre¬ 
 quently, doing his share to spoil the ever-petted Miss 
 Hilliard in the most approved fashion. 
 
 If there’s a shadow even so large as a man’s hand 
 in the sunlit horizon, the most experienced skipper 
 has not yet discovered it. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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