as this!"

And Mr. Edwards, much disturbed in mind, walked uneasily about the
floor. But soon pausing, he said--

"And so her mother is dead!"

"Yes. Her father died two years ago and her mother, who has been
sick ever since, died last week in abject poverty, leaving Mary
friendless, in a world where the poor and needy are but little
regarded. The miniature which Mary had secretly pawned in order to
supply the last earthly need of her mother, she sought by her labor
to redeem; but ere she had been able to save up enough for the
purpose, the time for which the pledge had been taken, expired, and
the pawn broker refused to renew it. Under the faint hope that she
might be able to buy it in with the little pittance of money she had
saved, she attended the sale where we found her."

The merchant had resumed his seat, and although he had listened
attentively to the Quaker's brief history, he did not make any
reply, but soon became lost in thought. From this he was interrupted
by his visitor, who said, as he moved towards the door--

"I will bid thee good morning, friend Edwards."

"One moment, if you please," said the merchant, arousing himself,
and speaking earnestly, "Where does Mary Belgrave live?"

The Friend answered the question, and, as Mr. Edwards did not seem
inclined to ask any more, and besides fell back again into an
abstract state, he wished him good morning and retired.

The poor girl was sitting alone in her room sewing, late in the
afternoon of the day on which the incident at the auction room
occurred, musing, as she had mused for hours, upon the unexpected
adventure. She did not, in the excitement of the moment, know Mr.
Edwards when he first tendered her the miniature; but when he said
with peculiar emphasis and earnestness, turning away as he
spoke--"Keep it, in Heaven's name!" she recognized him fully. Since
that moment, she had not been able to keep the thought of him from
her mind. They had been intimate friends at one time; but this was
while they were both very young. Then he had professed for her a
boyish passion; and she had loved him with the childish fondness of
a young school-girl. As they grew older, circumstances separated
them more; and though no hearts were broken in consequence, both
often thought of the early days of innocence and affection with
pleasure.

Mary sat sewing, as we have said, late in the afternoon of the day
on which the incident at the auction room occurred, when