moment, was forgotten; and Captain Simonson, laying the wounded Commandant on the floor, between sobs exclaimed, "Oh, Commandant, my dear, dear Commandant! Oh, why have you done this thing? Why have you so wronged yourself? Why have you given your life for me? Why-"

Faintly breathing, but looking up into the prisoner's face with an ineffable smile, the Commandant whispered, "Because I am your father."

There are times in our lives when, for a moment, words lose all their vital force and meaning. We hear them, but are so dazed or obsessed they make no impression on our minds.

Thus it was with Captain Simonson. He was so horrified at the Commandant's act-horrified for the Commandant himself, his wife, Elaine-that the Commandant's bewildering declaration, with its infinite, soul-staggering significance, for the moment was entirely excluded from his mind.

But when at last he did grasp it, instead of amazement at the revelation, he was the more amazed that, from the beginning, he had not understood it all. Ah, yes-it all came to him now. This was the explanation of his filial affection for the Commandant, the emotion experienced when, on New Year's eve, he had looked upon Benvenuto's "Our Heloise," and his unspeakably-precious, utterly-unsensual love for his ever-adorable Elaine Veronica.

The next moment, however, two women hastily entered the low-ceiled, gloomy, crowded room. Instinctively the chivalrous soldiers knew that, whatever their mission, Love had brought them and, with true soldierly chivalry, opened a way for them to pass.

Captain Simonson was busily ministering to the stricken Commandant, but arose when he saw Elaine, and evidently her mother, approaching.

"We understand," Elaine said, with deep emotion. "Papa wrote it all and sent it to me last night-though we have just read it."

Then simply: "Mama, dear, this is your long-lost Tancred."

And to the Captain: "This is Our Heloise, your's and mine.

"I am your sister, Elaine Veronica.

"You are Tancred Sebastian Turney, my hero-brother." "Our Heloise," with a bewildered but heavenly look in her eyes, and Elaine, now were kneeling beside the prostrate Commandant; and Tancred knelt with his mother and sister, beside his father.

CHAPTER XXXIV

SOLUTION OF MYSTERY.

WEDDING BELLS. A NIGHT IN PARIS

T was the old, old story of a thwarted lover's hatred of

woman of sin, all culminating in one of the most dastardly of crimes-the abduction of an innocent mother's idolized babe.

In the great ante-bellum days when South Carolina had more taxable property than Massachusetts; and the bank clearings of Charleston exceeded those of Boston, Philadelphia, or New Orleans; and the society of Charleston was famous around the world for its elegance and splendor; and John C. Calhoun, of South Carolina, was Vice-President, and the Nation's brainiest and, after Webster, most eloquent statesmen; perhaps the three richest and most influential families of the renowned Commonwealth were the Dinwiddies, Turneys, and Simonsons. The men of these families were bankers, merchant-princes, and publicists; and the women, usually educated in Paris, were famed for their culture, refinement, and extraordinary beauty.

When Heloise Dinwiddie returned home from Paris, after the completion of her education in that city, she was immediately acclaimed the "Belle of Charleston"—indeed of the entire South.

There were many reasons why she should enjoy this rare preeminence. Her beauty was of the rarest and most exquisite type; her bearing and manner were commanding yet gentle and gracious; she was a fluent linguist, brilliant

conversationist, and accomplished musician. Paternally she was the granddaughter of that Baron Esterhazy Dinwiddie who was one of the great Napoleon's Field-Marshals at Waterloo, and daughter of Abercrombie Dinwiddie, banker and United States Senator; maternally she was the granddaughter of Honoré Monteagle, who had come over with Lafayette and helped Washington to achieve American Independence, and the daughter of Pierre Monteagle, also a banker, and once Governor of the Commonwealth.

Of course, Heloise Dinwiddie had many suitors-it could not have been otherwise; and of course the lists presently were narrowed down to two suitors, Thomas P. Turney and Abraham Simonson. And this could hardly have been different for the Turney and Simonson families were, after the Dinwiddies, the wealthiest and most distinguished of the many notable Charleston families.

It soon was evident, however, that Turney was the favored suitor, and that Simonson's attentions were accepted only as a matter of courtesy. But when Heloise learned, on indisputable authority, that Simonson had a shameful liaison with a certain notorious Madge Brigley, she had her father inform him that his presence at the Dinwiddie Mansion was no longer permissible; and, at the same time, made it known to would-be hostesses that she would accept hospitality at no house where Abraham Simonson was to be a guest. As a result, so distinguished and influential were the Dinwiddies, in a short time Simonson was socially ostracised.

Very naturally, considering his character and manner of life, Simonson now became even more dissipated, and charged his downfall to his successful rival. In this he was entirely mistaken; but he refused to believe otherwise even after Heloise's father, and a detective whom he had employed to ascertain the habits and associations of his

daughter's suitor, had obtained an interview with the furious young man and taken the blame wholly on themselves.

Presently Mr. Thomas P. Turney and Miss Heloise Dinwiddie were married. It was, in keeping with the distinction of both families, a brilliant wedding; and, as the Dinwiddies were Roman Catholics, the mass was said at the Cathedral, with the venerable Bishop of the Diocese as the celebrant.

Of course, Abraham Simonson was not among the invited guests; but as the bridal party came out of the Cathedral the rejected suitor and Madge Brigley, arrayed as bride and bridegroom, including veil and orange blossoms, were driven slowly by-intent upon making a spectacle of themselves, and expressing contempt for the high contracting parties.

None thought that Simonson and Madge Brigley really were married. That was incredible; it was only a disgusting masquerade. But the next edition of the Mercury informed them to the contrary. In space paid for by Simonson appeared a shrieking account, written by Simonson himself, of the "celebration of the nuptial ceremony by the Hon. Dennis Monahon, our worthy J. P." etc., etc., and also pictures of the "happy pair."

Matters with Simonson now went rapidly from bad to worse, and from occasional libations he proceeded to prolonged orgies. All this very naturally had a deteriorating effect on his still beautiful, though discredited, wife, and she more and more shared with him his carousals. But for the high esteem in which Samuel Simonson, his father, was held, often they would have been arrested, or even expelled from the city, so outrageous became their conduct.

Of course, Simonson was untrue to his wife—such men always are, and, of course, his wife was intensely jealous