“Oh, Mr. St. Claire,” and Edith’s eyes filled with tears.

“Yes, both of them died,” he continued.  “Mrs. Bernard’s health was greatly undermined by sorrow, and when a prevailing epidemic fastened itself upon her, it found an easy prey.  The waiting-maid wrote immediately to Florida, and her letter was sent back to Mr. Bernard, who, having become sobered, hastened at once to find her place of abode.  She was a very intelligent woman for one of her class, and had taken the precaution to have the remains of her late mistress and child deposited in such a manner that they could easily be removed if Mr. Bernard should so desire it.  He did desire it, and the bodies were taken undisturbed to Florida, where they now rest quietly, side by side with the proud mother and sister, since deceased.  After this Mr. Bernard became a changed and better man, weeping often over the fate of his young girl-wife and his infant daughter, whom he greatly loved.  Other troubles he had, too, secret troubles which he confided to me in the letter brought by Mr. Hudson.  After assuring me of his esteem and telling me how much he should prefer me for his son-in-law to Charlie Hudson, he added that in justice to us both he must now speak of the horrible cloud hanging over his beautiful Nina, and which was sure at last to envelop her in darkness.  You can guess it, Edith.  You have guessed it already—­hereditary insanity—­reaching far back into the past, and with each successive generation developing itself earlier and in a more violent form.  He knew nothing of it when he married Nina’s mother, a famous New Orleans belle, for her father purposely kept it from him, hoping thus to get her off his hands ere the malady manifested itself.

“In her case it came on with the birth of Nina, and from that day to her death she was a raving, disgusting maniac, as her mother and grandmother had been before her.  This was exceedingly mortifying to the proud Bernards, negroes and all, and the utmost care was taken of Nina, who, nevertheless, was too much like her mother to hope for escape.  There was the same peculiar look in the eye—­the same restless, nervous motions, and from her babyhood up he knew his child was doomed to chains, straight jackets and narrow cells, while the man who married her was domed to a still more horrible fate.  These were his very words, and my heart stopped its beating as I read, while I involuntarily thanked Heaven, who had changed her feelings towards me.  She told me with many tears that she had ceased to love me, and asked to be released for the fulfillment of her vow.  I knew then she would one day be just what she is, and did not think it my duty to insist.  But I did not forsake her, though my affection for her then was more like a brother’s than a lover’s.  In his will, which was duly made and witnessed, Mr. Bernard appointed me the guardian of his child, empowering me to do for her as if she were my sister, and bidding me when the calamity should overtake her, care for her to the last.