d before she slept she wrote a long letter to Neil, telling him first
of the fortune which had come to her so unexpectedly, but not explaining
how it had come.

She was simply the sole heiress of a certain Joel Rogers, who left
shares in the quarries and mines, and these she was now possessed of,
and felt herself a rich woman.

"Quite an heiress, it seems to me," she wrote, "although the sum is
really not so very large, but it is more than I ever dreamed of having,
and as money burns in my fingers, I am dying to be rid of some of it,
and this is a plan which Grey and I have talked over together, and which
I hope will meet your approval and that of your father."

Then, as briefly as possible she made her offer, which she begged him to
persuade his father to accept.

"It will make me very happy," she wrote, "to know that his old age is
made more comfortable by me. I should be glad to give you a part of my
little fortune, but Grey says you would not like it, and perhaps he is
right. I am glad that you are going to do something; I think you will be
happier if occupied with business, and I wish you to be happy, as I am
sure you will be some day, and always remember that you have two
sincere friends, Grey and your Cousin Bessie."

She was going to add "Jerrold" to the Bessie, but refrained from doing
so, thinking to herself that she would not be the first to flaunt her
new name in Neil's face. Grey, however, had no such scruples. Looking
over Bessie's shoulder, as she finished her letter, he saw her start to
make the "J," and when she changed her mind, and put down her pen, he
took it up and himself wrote the "Jerrold" with a flourish, saying, as
he did so:

"Don't be afraid to show your colors, _petite_. I think 'Bessie Jerrold'
the sweetest name in all the world."

"So do I; but I doubt if Neil holds the same opinion," Bessie answered,
with a laugh, as she leaned her head upon her husband's bosom, while he
kissed her lips and forehead, and said the fond, foolish things which no
loving wife, however old she may be, is ever tired of hearing--fond,
foolish words, which, if oftener spoken, would keep alive the love in
hearts which should never grow cold to each other.

It was three days before an answer came to Bessie's letter, and in that
time she developed a most astonishing talent for architecture, or rather
for devising and planning how to repair and improve a house. At least
twenty sheets of paper were wasted with