"Her profession, her age, her sweet face, in which I can trace a softened, beautified likeness of her mother's, but which has a peculiarly high bred, refined expression, worthy of a royal princess, all combine to make me believe it must be so.

Then, alas! alas! it is his own sister that this cursed libertine has so wronged, and he has been guilty of a horrible, horrible crime.

Oh! I am cruelly punished for my youthful folly and sin." Isabelle at length opened her eyes, and her first look fell upon the prince, holding the ring that he had drawn from her finger.

It seemed to her as if she had seen his face before--but in youth, without the gray hair and beard.

It seemed also to be an aged copy of the portrait over the chimney-piece in her room, and a feeling of profound veneration filled her heart as she gazed at him.