Although he is vastly my superior in station, in blood, and in character, still my father would kill me before he would permit me to marry this man of my choice; and I, dear aunt, fear I shall die if I have him not." Light slowly dawned upon Aunt Dorothy's mind, and she exclaimed in a terrified whisper:-- "My God, child, is it he ?" "Yes," responded the girl, "yes, it is he." "Do not speak his name, Dorothy," the old lady said.

"Do not speak his name.

So long as you do not tell me, I cannot know with certainty who he is." After a pause Aunt Dorothy continued, "Perhaps, child, it was his father whom I loved and was compelled to give up." "May the blessed Virgin pity us, sweet aunt," cried Dorothy, caressingly.
"And help us," returned Lady Crawford.

"I, too, shall help you," she continued.

"It will be through no fault of mine if your life is wasted as mine has been." Dorothy kissed her aunt and retired.
Next morning when Dorothy arose a song came from her heart as it comes from the skylark when it sees the sun at dawn--because it cannot help singing.