it was the memory of those dark hours, which so warmed her heart
towards the little girl she had taken under her charge. From Jenny we
have learned something of her history. Once a happy, loving wife,
surrounded by wealth and friends, she had thought the world all bright
and beautiful. But a change came over the spirit of her dream. Her
noble husband died,--and the day succeeding his burial, she was told
that their fortune, too, was gone. One by one, as misfortune came upon
her, did her fashionable friends desert her, until she was left alone,
with none to lean upon except the God of the widow and fatherless, and
in Him she found a strong help for her dark hour of need. Bravely she
withstood the storm, and when it was over, retired with the small
remnant of her once large fortune to the obscure neighborhood of Rice
Corner, where with careful economy she managed to live comfortably,
besides saving a portion for the poor and destitute. She had taken a
particular fancy to Mary, and in giving her a home, she had thought
more of the good she could do the child, than of any benefit she would
receive from her services as waiting maid. She had fully intended to
go for Mary herself; but as we already know, was prevented by a severe
headache, and it was not until three o'clock in the afternoon, that
she was even able to see her at all. Then, calling Judith, she bade
her bring the little girl to her room, and leave them alone.

Judith obeyed, charging Mary to "tread on tiptoe, and keep as still as
a mouse, for Miss Mason's head ached fit to split."

This caution was unnecessary, for Mary had been so much accustomed to
sick persons that she knew intuitively just what to do and when to do
it and her step was so light, her voice so low, and the hand which
bathed the aching head so soft and gentle in its touch, that Mrs.
Mason involuntarily drew her to her bosom, and kissing her lips,
called her her child, and said she should never leave her then laying
back in her easy chair, she remained perfectly still, while Mary
alternately fixed her hair, and smoothed her forehead until she fell
into a quiet slumber, from which she did not awake until Judith rang
the bell for supper, which was neatly laid out in a little dining
parlor, opening into the flower garden. There was something so very
social and cheering in the appearance of the room, and the arrangement
of the table, with its glossy white cloth, and dishes of the same hue,
that Mar