sleeping
potion they had so mercifully administered to him had worn off, and he
was face to face once more with the great sorrow of his life.

They brought him a tempting breakfast, but he sent it away untasted. He
sent at once for one of the call-boys.

"Buy me a ticket for the first steamer that goes out," he said. "I do
not care where it goes or what its destination is; all I want is to get
away."

Still the boy lingered.

"Well," said Varrick, "why do you wait?"

"I had something to tell you sir."

"Go on," said Varrick.

"There is a young girl down in the corridor who insists upon seeing you,
sir. I told her it was quite useless, you would not see her; and then
she fell into passionate weeping, sobbing out that you _must_, if but
for a moment, and that she would not go until she had spoken with you,
if she had to remain there all day."

"Where is she?"

"In the corridor without, sir."

Varrick crossed the room and stepped out into the corridor. He saw a
little figure standing in the dim, shaded light.

She saw him at the same moment, and ran toward him with a little cry,
flinging herself with a great sob at his feet.

"Oh, Mr. Varrick!" she cried.

"Why, it's little Jessie Bain!" he exclaimed in wonder, forgetting for
the time being his own misery.

"It's just as you said it would be, sir--they have turned me out of the
house. And you said, Mr. Varrick, if they ever did that, to be sure and
come straight to you--and here I am!"

Varrick's amazement knew no bounds.

What should he do with this girl who was thrust so unceremoniously on
his hands.

"If it had not been for you and your kind words, I should have flung
myself in the St. Lawrence," continued the girl, "for I was so
desperate. How kind Heaven was to send you to me to help me in my hour
of greatest need, Mr. Varrick."

"Come into the parlor and let us talk this matter over," said Varrick.
"Yes, I will surely help you. I will go and see your uncle this very
day."

"I would not go to him," cried the girl. "I swear to you I would not!
When I tell you this, you will not wonder that I refuse. In his rage,
because I came home so late last night, he shot at me. The ball passed
within a hair's-breadth of my heart, for which it was intended, and the
powder burned my arm--see!"

Hubert Varrick was horror-stricken. The little arm was all blackened
with smoke, and burned with the powder. There was need for a doctor here
at once.

"If I w