For a few moments Mildred so trembled and looked so crushed that they feared for her exceedingly.  “Poor papa!” she moaned, “he was just insane from remorse and opium.  Seventy-three——­Street!  Why, that was the house in which we used to live.  It was there that papa spent his first happy years in this city, and it was there he went to die.  Oh, how dreadful, how inexpressibly sad it all is!  What shall we do?”

“Leave hall to me,” said Mrs. Wheaton.  “Mrs. Wilson, you stay ’ere with the poor dear, an’ I’ll hattend to heverything.”

Mildred was at last too overpowered to do more than lie on the lounge, breathing in long tremulous sighs.

Mrs. Wheaton went at once to the Morgue and found that the “unknown man” was indeed Mr. Jocelyn, and yet he had so changed, and a bullet-hole in his temple had given him such a ghastly appearance, that it was difficult to realize that he was the handsome, courtly gentleman who had first brought his beautiful daughter to the old mansion.

Mrs. Wheaton represented to the authorities that he was very poor, that his daughter was an orphan and overcome with grief, and that she now was the nearest friend of the afflicted girl.  Her statement was accepted, and then with her practical good sense she attended to everything.

During her absence Mildred had sighed, “Oh, I do so wish that Eoger Atwood were here.  He gives me hope and courage when no one else can.”

“Millie,” said Mrs. Wilson tearfully, “for his sake you must rally and be braver than you have ever been before.  I think his life now depends upon you.  He has the fever, and in his delirium he calls for you constantly.”

At first Mrs. Wilson thought the shock of her tidings would be more disastrous to the poor girl, already so unnerved and exhausted, than all the terrible events which had thus far occurred.  “I have brought him nothing but suffering and misfortune,” she cried.  “He gave up everything for us, and now we may cost him his life.”

“Millie, he is not dead, and you, if any one, can bring him life.”

She had touched the right chord, for the young girl soon became quiet and resolute.  “He never failed me,” she said in a low voice, “and I won’t fail him.”

“That is the right way to feel,” said Mrs. Wilson eagerly.  “I now think that everything depends on your courage and fortitude.  Mrs. Wheaton and I have planned it all out.  We’ll go to Forestville on the evening boat, and take your father’s and mother’s remains with us.”

Mrs. Wheaton learned from the undertaker connected with Mr. Wentworth’s chapel that the clergyman would not be back until evening, and she told the former to tell their pastor all that had occurred, and to ask him to keep the circumstances of Mr. Jocelyn’s death as quiet as possible.