stern and uncompromising
there were great tears, as the lonely woman's thoughts went back to the
long ago, and the awful tragedy which had darkened all her life.

And then it was that, in the midst of her softened mood, a little
girlish figure, dressed in black, came up the steps and knocked timidly
at the open door. Bessie had left her luggage at the station, and walked
to the house which was pointed out to her as Miss McPherson's by a boy
who volunteered to show her the way, and who said to her:

"She's a queer old cove, and if you don't mind your p's and q's she will
take your head off. She's game, she is."

This was not very reassuring, and Bessie's heart beat rapidly as she
went up the steps to the door. She saw the square, straight figure in
the chair, and was prepared for the quick, sharp "Come in!" which
answered her knock.

Adjusting her spectacles to the right focus, Miss Betsey looked up at
her visitor in that scrutinizing, inquisitive manner usual with her, and
which made Bessie's knees shake under her as she advanced into the room.

"Who are you?" the look seemed to say, and without waiting to have it
put into words Bessie went straight to the woman, and stretching out her
hands said, imploringly:

"Oh, Aunt Betsey, do you remember a little girl who came to you on the
Terrace at Aberystwyth years ago? Little Bessie McPherson, to whom you
sent a ring? Here it is," and she pointed to it upon her finger, "and I
am she--Bessie, and mother is dead--and I--I am all alone, and I have
come to America--to you--not to have you keep me--not to live upon you,
but to earn my living--to work for money with which to pay my debts. Two
hundred and fifty pounds to Lady Jane for mother's sickness and burial,
and five pounds to Anthony. That is the sum--two hundred and fifty-five
pounds. Will you let me stay to-night? Can you find me something to do?"

Bessie had told her whole story, and as she told it her face was a
study, with its look of eagerness and fear and the bright color which
came and went so rapidly, but as she finished speaking left it white as
ashes. Miss Betsey's face was a study, too, as she regarded the girl
fixedly until she stopped talking; then, motioning her to a chair, she
said:

"Sit down, child, before you faint away; you are pale as a cloth. Take
off your bonnet and have some tea. I suppose you are hungry."

She rang the bell for Susan to bring hot tea and toast, which she made
Bessie eat, pr