n. And it was just when her heart was
saddest because her father had that morning called her _Daisy_, and when
she corrected him had said, "Yes, but I can't think of your name; words
go from me strangely at times; everything is confused," that Neil's
letter came, bringing her fresh cause for anxiety, and seeming with its
brevity and strangeness, to put him farther from her than he would be in
Cannes, whither he was going.

That night Bessie cried herself to sleep, and was so weak and sick the
next morning that Dorothy persuaded her to stay in bed and brought her
up her breakfast of toast, crisp and hot, with a fresh boiled egg and a
cup of tea which she declared would almost give life to a dead man.

"But, Dolly," Bessie said, "you should not have brought me the egg; they
are two pence apiece, and father must have them all. Can't you keep it
and warm it up for him?"

"Warm up an egg! Bless the child," and Dorothy laughed till the tears
ran. "You can't warm over a boiled egg, so eat it down; it will do you
good, and you are growing so thin and pale. Here is a letter for your
father; but as he is asleep I brought it to you."

Taking the letter, Bessie examined the address, which was a strange one
to her. Evidently it was on business, and as nothing of that kind could
mean anything but fresh anxiety and annoyance for her father, she
resolved to know the contents and, if possible, keep them from the weak
invalid. So she broke the seal and read with astonishment that Messrs.
Blank & Blank, bankers, in Lombard street, London, had been instructed
by one who did not wish his name to appear, to send to Mr. Archibald
McPherson of Stoneleigh, Bangor, the sum of one hundred pounds, and
inclosed was a check for the same.

"Oh!" Bessie exclaimed, as she sprang up and began to dress herself
rapidly. "One hundred pounds! Why, we are rich, and father can have
everything he wants. I wonder how much a bottle of Johannisberger wine
would cost."

Then there crept into her mind the question, who sent it? Was it the
Hon. John? Was it Neil? or--and Bessie's heart stood still a moment and
then beat with a heavy pain--or was it Jack Trevellian, who had done
this because of what her mother had told him of their needs? It was like
him, she knew, but if it were he, she could never touch the money, and
without a word to her father of the letter, she wrote at once to Messrs.
Blank & Blank, Lombard street, asking if it were Mr. Trevellian, and