el, knowing I could give it to her on
the vessel. But the letter--ah, that troubles me most of all."

She paused a moment and looked at Donald, before beginning again, as if
fearing that he would be angry. But he sat watching her, with breathless
interest.

"It was a letter to a Mr. George Reed, somewhere in America--your
uncle, was it, sir?--and your mother had handed it to me a whole week
before to put in the post. It would then have gone across in the steamer
before ours, but--ah, how can I tell you? I had dropped it into my
little satchel (it was one that I often carried with me), and forgotten
all about it. And, indeed, I never thought of it again till we had been
two days out, and then I remembered it was in the satchel. I don't
wonder you feel badly, sir, indeed I don't; for it should have gone to
America, as she intended,--the poor, dear lady!"

"Heaven only knows what trouble it might have spared my uncle; and now
he can never know," said Donald, in a broken voice.

"Never know? please don't say that, Master Donald, for you'll be going
back alive and well, and giving the letter to him with your own hands,
Heaven willing."

Donald could only gasp out, "With my own hands? What! How?"

"Because it's in the satchel to this day. Many a time, after I was safe
on shore again, I thought to post it, but I was foolish and cowardly,
and feared it might get me into trouble in some way, I didn't know how,
but I never had the courage to open it when the poor lady who wrote it
was dead and gone. May be you'll think best to open it yourself now,
sir."

So saying, Madame Rene stepped across the room, kneeled by an old trunk,
and opening it she soon drew forth a small leather hand-bag.

Handing it to the electrified Donald, she gave a long sigh of relief.

"There it is, sir, and it's a blessed day that sees it safe in your own
hands!"

Yes, there they were,--the ribbon, the picture, the tiny golden key, and
the letter. Donald, looking a little wild (as Madame Rene thought),
examined them, one after the other and all together, with varying
expressions of emotion and delight. He was bewildered as to what to do
first; whether to take out the necklace, that he now always carried
about with him, and fit the key to its very small lock; or to compare
the group with the babies' photographs which his uncle had intrusted to
him, and which he had intended to show to Madame Rene during the present
interview; or to open and read