r strength, they asked her gently what she
could do. Alas! she had suffered her fine talents to rust. They had
nothing but impoverished material to use; but at last they found her a
situation with two maiden ladies just setting up a school in the
neighborhood, and here she gave daily lessons.

And so, as the years went on, things became a little brighter.

Nea found her work interesting, her little daughter Fern accompanied
her to the school, and she taught her with her other pupils.

Presently the day's labor became light to her, and she could look
forward to the evening when her son, fetching her on his way from
school, would escort her home--a humble home it was true; but when she
looked at her boy's handsome face, and Fern's innocent beauty, and
felt her little one's caresses, as she climbed up into her lap, the
widow owned that her lot had its compensations.

But the crowning trial was yet to come; the last drop of concentrated
bitterness.

Not long after Maurice's death, Mr. Huntingdon made his first overture
of reconciliation through his lawyer.

His niece, Beatrice, had died suddenly, and her boy was fretting sadly
for his mother.

Some one had pointed out to Mr. Huntingdon one day a dark-eyed
handsome boy in deep mourning, looking at the riders in Rotten Row,
and had told him that it was his grandson, Percy Trafford.

Mr. Huntingdon had said nothing at the time, but the boy's face and
noble bearing haunted him, he was so like his mother, when as a child
she had played about the rooms at Belgrave House. Perhaps, stifle it
as he might, the sobbing voice of his daughter rang in his ears, "Come
home with your own Nea, father;" and in spite of his pride his
conscience was beginning to torment him.

Nea smiled scornfully when she listened to the lawyer's overtures. Mr.
Huntingdon was willing to condone the past with regard to her son
Percy. He would take the boy, educate him, and provide for him most
liberally, though she must understand that his nephew, Erle, would be
his heir; still on every other point the boys should have equal
advantages.

"And Belgrave House, the home where my boy is to live, will be closed
to his mother?" asked Nea, still with that delicate scorn on her face.

The lawyer looked uncomfortable.

"I have no instructions on that point, Mrs. Trafford; I was simply to
guarantee that he should be allowed to see you from time to time, as
you and he might wish it."

"I can not entertai