he learned to love me. Through it all, I had Doctor
Brinkerhoff's sympathetic assistance. He came every week, advised me,
counselled with me, helped me, and even faced the gossips. All that East
Lancaster knows is the simple fact that I found a child who attracted
me, discovered that her parents were dead, and adopted her. There was a
great deal of excitement at first, but it died down. Most things die
down, my dear, if we give them time."

"Dear Aunt Peace," said Margaret, softly, "you found a bit of human
driftwood, and with your love and your patience made it into a beautiful
woman."

The old face softened, and the serene eyes grew dim. "Whenever I think
that my life has been in vain; when it seems empty, purposeless, and
bare, I look at my little girl, remember what she was, and find content.
I think that a great deal will be forgiven me, because I have done well
with her."

"I am so glad you told me," continued Margaret, after a little.

"Her future has sorely troubled me. Of course I can make her
comfortable, but money is not everything. I dread to have her go away
from East Lancaster, and yet----"

"She never need go," interrupted Margaret. "If, as you say, the house
comes to me, there is no reason why she should. I would be so glad to
have her with me!"

"Thank you, my dear! It was what I wanted, but I did not like to ask.
Now my mind will be at rest."

"It is little enough to do for you, leaving her out of the question. She
might be a great deal less lovely than she is, and yet it would be a
pleasure to do it for you."

"She will repay you, I am sure," said Aunt Peace. "Of course Lynn will
marry sometime,"--here the mother's heart stopped beating for an instant
and went on unevenly,--"so you will be left alone. You cannot expect to
keep him in a place like East Lancaster. He is--how old?"

"Twenty-three."

"Then, in a few years more, he will leave you." Aunt Peace was merely
meditating aloud as she looked out of the window, and had no idea that
she was hurting her listener. "Perhaps, after all, Iris will be my best
bequest to you."

"Iris may marry," suggested Mrs. Irving, trying to smile.

"Iris," repeated Aunt Peace, "no indeed! I have made her an
old-fashioned spinster like myself. She has never thought of such
things, and never will!"

(At the moment, Miss Temple was reading an anonymous letter, much worn,
but, though walls have ears, they are happily blind, and Aunt Peace did
not realise