n the day that their
furniture began to arrive, and to provide abundant material for gossip
and comment to the other members of the kitchen cabinet, Mary's mind
appeared suddenly made up. She came into my mother's room looking as a
certain sort of women do when they have made a resolution which they
mean to stand by,--very pale, very quiet, and very decided. She asked
to see my mother alone, and in that interview she simply expressed
gratitude for all her kindness to her, but said that circumstances
would oblige her to go to New York.

My mother now tried her best to draw from her her history, whatever
that might be. She spoke with tact and tenderness, and with the
respect due from one human being to another; for my mother always held
that every soul has its own inviolable private door which it has a
right to keep closed, and at which even queens and duchesses, if they
wish to enter, must knock humbly and reverently.

Mary was almost overcome by her kindness. She thanked her over and
over; at times my mother said she looked at her wistfully, as if on
the very point of speaking, and then, quietly gathering herself within
herself, she remained silent. All that could be got from her was, that
it was necessary for her hereafter to live in New York.

The servants in the kitchen, with the warm-heartedness of their race,
broke out into a perfect Irish howl of sorrow; and at the last moment,
Biddy, our fat cook, fell on her neck and lifted up her voice and
wept, almost smothering her with her tumultuous embraces; and the
whole party of them would go with her to the New York station, one
carrying her shawl, another her hand-bag and parasol, with emulous
affection; and so our very pleasant and desirable second girl
disappeared, and we saw her no more.

Six months after this, when our Mary had become only a memory of the
past, I went to spend a week or two in Newport, and took, among other
matters and things, a letter of introduction to Mrs. McIntyre, a
Scotch lady, who had just bought a pretty cottage there, and, as my
friend who gave it told me, would prove an interesting acquaintance.

"She has a pretty niece," said he, "who I'm told is heiress to her
property, and is called a very nice girl."

So, at the proper time, I lounged in one morning, and found a very
charming, cosy, home-like parlor, arranged with all those little
refined touches and artistic effects by which people of certain tastes
and habits at once recogniz