one reason why we afterwards left Virginia for New York
State. But God knows best; it is right for you to know, or it would not
have been so. The ring in the box is the one given by Walter to your
mother, and she wished you, if you ever knew the story, to wear it."

Some time after Mrs. Dering left the room, Ernestine slowly turned her
head, looked at the box, and with trembling fingers lifted the cover.
The first thing that met her eyes, was a picture, an exquisite face
painted on porcelain, and she uttered a smothered cry as she looked at
the face of her mother, of whom she was the living image. There was the
same brown eyes, with their slender arches; the same fine straight nose,
and wilful, determined mouth, and the same halo of sunny hair, covering
the proud little head. But Ernestine, looking at it then, thought of the
sweet, true, dear woman, she had always called mother, and threw it down
with a bitter cry of pain. There was also a tiny note, written in a
beautiful dashing hand, and after a while she read it slowly.

"BESS DARLING:

"You have always been my good angel, and I could cry if I
wasn't so happy, to think how I am going to disappoint you after
all. But you mustn't mind, only think how happy I am going to
be, for Clarence loves me! I will be his wife when you read
this, and oh Bess I cannot help but be happy then. Tell Walter
he must not care, he never would have been happy with me,
because I could not love him. I hope you will not feel badly
when you get this; have a gay wedding, and think how happy I am.
I expect it is wrong to run off this way, but I've always done
things wrong, I always will, but it might have been different,
if my mother had loved home more, society less, and been as true
and good to me as a mother, as you have been as a friend.

"FLORENCE."

There were many little trinkets, beside the diamond ring, which
Ernestine declared she could never wear; and in a tiny little box, with
"My Baby," written on the top, were four round bits of gold, each a five
dollar piece.

It really seemed as though the girls could never recover from the shock.
Their faces were pale and tear-stained for many days; and only Olive,
whose self-control was greatest, could venture into Ernestine's
presence, without bursting into tears, and having to beat a hasty
retreat. Every fault that she had ever possessed, they lost sight of
now; they only tho