Year: 1879

her, then, from another source, one desirous
of not being made known.


She put away the money and the letter,
resolved to keep both carefully until some
development of the puzzle should occur.


Ten days later precisely similar enclo.
sure came to her through the post; the only
difference being in the accompanying COM
munication, which was briefer| and more
carelessly penned than the first. III. V. B."
simply stated that she would hear from him
again from time to time.


The more she puzzled over this mystery,
the more bewildered she grew. One solution
presented itself to her, but was rejected as
wild and impossible-that of her husband
being the source of these presents; for, if he
felt a sufficient interest in her welfare to trace
her out in order to provide for her, why did
he exclude her from all opportunity Of vindi-
eating herself from the offence, whatever it
might be, of which he must suppose her
guilty? If he concerned himself at all about
her, his affection, it seemed to her, could not
be entirely dead and if any spark Of it re-
mained he surely could not so unrelentingly
maintain the barrier between them. Still,
the very possibility, or shadow of possibili-
ty, that he might be striving in this indirect
way to establish a sort of bridge over the
gulf of their separation, thrilled her whole
being with vague, inde6nable hope; yet on
farther reflection this hope would vanish, and
she would chide herself for being so foolish
as to have permitted its entrance even for an
instant into her heart.


On the other hand, if it was not he who
made this provision for her support, who else
could it be? Her thoughts reverted to her
Drowsieville friends, but nothing seemed less
likely than that any of them should commu-
nicate with her in this way. 1t was useless
for her to try to explain the problem; it was
quite inexplicable. Wherever the money
came from, she resolved not to use it unless
necessity should require. So she locked it up
safely in drawer, and only touched it when
she added to it other sums which, according
to promise, came from time to time. Her
store increased so by degrees that at last she
found herself in condition, if she chose, to
leave her present situation and establish her.
self independently elsewhere. But somehow
she had feeling that here she was under the
supervision of some protecting agency, from
which, humble as her duties were, she was
10th to 60 away.


Her action in the matter, as it happened,
was not left to her own choice. One day she
was summoned to Mrs. Winfeld's apartment,
and found that lady in state of manifest
exultation and delight


"Well, Rachel she exclaimed, "%hat do
you think of my luck? Mr.. Winfield 3 60
ing to Europe, and I've worried him into
taking me and the girls with him. We are
going to sail on the fifteenth of next month" :"


"Indeed, madam!'' rejoined Rachel. "Will
the children 60 also%


"No not the three young 'uns. mean to
send them to my sister, Mrs. Butterfeld, in
Jersey, until we come back. sent for you
to tell you at once, because, Of course, you
can't go with them. I'm sorry to have to
part with you, but you'll be obliged to look
out for another place"


Every WE'LL" Rachel answered, simply.
She was not conscious Of feeling either glad
or sorry, only it was a perplexity to decide
where she must 60 next. This had been a
resting-place to her, and now she must leave
it and set out in search OF another.


After some deliberation, she resolved to
seek out cheap lodging in some retired quar-
ter of New York, where she could stsy at
any rate for little while, until something in
the way of fresh employment presented itself:
She could always fall back upon her Ieedle
as resourse, if she found nothing better,
and in the heart Of that great busy city she
could be as completely lost as she desired to
be. She had not much difficulty in finding
the sort of home she wanted. And few
days before the Wind6elds' departure for
Europe she removed to her new abode, dull
respectable lodging-house, kept by an elderly
spinster who faithfully endeavored to carry
out the compact which she made to afford
those beneath her roof 'the comforts Of a
home," though perhaps her success was not
altogether complete.


And here she settled down into dreary,
absolutely unevently life, feeling herself
more completeful alone than ever before.
There was not soul among her fellow lodg-
ers between whom and herself she could posi-
bly, feel the slightest bond Of sympathy, the
most triAing sentiment in common. Not that
this troubled her; she was anxious to shun,
rather than seek, any intercourse with those
around her. But it was an unhealthy mode
of existence, and she grew insensibly more
morbid and wretched as time went on.


ri shall die if I continue in this way much
longer" she said to herself, one day, in sort
of desperation, when she had been at Miss
Smithson's little more than six weeks. 81
shall have to get work Of some kind. Any
thing is better than sitting idle and brooding,
day after day, and hour after hour, over a
grief which can never be healed"


She had passed, in her occasional walks out,
various repositories Of ready.made under
clothing, and she decided to find out whether
at some of these she could not obtain employ
ment, or at any rate, be directed where to Co.
After some unsuccessful efforts, she found a
place where additional workers were needed.
She was asked for sample Of her work,
which she gave. 1t proved satisfactory, and