_, a New England lady, papa French
Canadian. Mamma's friends did not wish her to marry papa, and she ran
away. It is five years ago since she died, and papa--papa could not live
without her, and two years after the good God took him too."

The tearful brown eyes look down at her shabby black dress. "Monsieur
beholds I wear mourning still. Then Uncle Louis took me, and sent me to
school, but Uncle Louis has so many, so I wrote to mamma's brothers in
Portland, and they sent a letter back and money, and told me to come.
And I am going--Frollo and me."

She bends over the little dog, her lips quivering like the lips of a
grieved child, and the lawyer's middle-aged heart goes out to her in a
great compassion.

"Poor little lonely child!" he thinks, watching the sweet overcast face:
"I hope they will be good to her, those Yankee friends." Then aloud.
"But you are very young, are you not, to travel this distance alone?"

"I am seventeen, and I had to travel alone, there was no one to come
with me. My Uncle Kent will meet me at Portland."

"You are Mademoiselle Kent?" he says with a smile.

"No, monsieur, my name is Bourdon--Norine Kent Bourdon."

"Have you ever seen those relatives to whom you are going?"

"Once. They came to see mamma when she was dead. There are three--two
uncles and an aunt. They were very kind. I liked them very much."

"I trust you will be happy in your new home, Miss Bourdon," the lawyer
says gravely. "Permit me to offer you my card. If you ever visit New
York I may meet you again--who knows?"

The young lady smiles as she reads the name.

"Ah--who knows? I am going out as governess by-and-by. Perhaps I shall
write to you to help get me a situation."

"What a frank, innocent child it is!" thought Mr. Gilbert, looking down
at the smiling, trustful face: "other girls of her age would be bashful,
coquettish, or afraid of a masculine stranger. But this pretty child
smiles up in my face, and tells me her little history as though I were
her brother. I wish I were her brother, and had power to shield her from
the hardships of life." "Any service in my power I shall always be happy
to render you, my dear young lady," he said; "if at any time you apply
to me, believe me I shall do my utmost to serve you."

Mademoiselle Norine Kent Bourdon looked up into the grave, genial face,
with soft, trustful eyes that thanked him. She could not have defined
it, but she felt he was a man to be trusted--a good ma