folds a
small, pasteboard box, which she hastily opened, exposing to view a
tiny gold locket and chain of rare workmanship and exquisite design.
Upon touching a little spring, it opened, and Lyle gave a low cry of
delight, for there was revealed the same beautiful face which she had
seen in Jack's cabin,--the face of her mother. For some time she gazed
at it through fast-gathering tears, then happening to note the
engraving on the inside of the case, opposite to the picture, she held
it closer to the light, to discern the delicate characters of the
inscription, and read:

"To Marjorie Lyle Washburn,
Upon her second birthday."

Lyle Maverick no longer, but Marjorie Lyle Washburn! She repeated the
name over and over to herself,--the magic talisman by which she was to
find the home and friends she sought!

Kissing the locket reverently, she replaced it in the box, and folding
together the little garments, she again took up the letter. She
studied it for a moment, then resolutely breaking the seal, began to
read its contents. It was slow work, for the writing in many places
was so poor as to be nearly illegible, but, with burning cheeks and
eyes flashing with indignation at what it revealed, she read it to the
end.

In uncouth phrases and illiterate language, and yet with a certain
pathos, Mrs. Maverick told the story of the death, years before, while
their home was east, in Ohio, of her own little girl between two and
three years of age, and her inconsolable sorrow. A few months
afterward, Jim had suddenly returned from a neighboring town where he
was working, bringing with him a beautiful little girl of the same age
as her own, but unusually advanced for her years, whose father and
mother he claimed had been killed in a railroad accident, and of whose
friends nothing could be learned. His wife had accepted his story in
good faith, and welcomed the motherless little one to her own lonely
heart. Unknown to Jim, who had charged her to burn them, she had also
preserved the garments worn by the little stranger on that day.

But the little one did not take kindly to her new surroundings but
cried piteously for her mother, night and day, even refusing food of
all kinds, until she was suddenly taken with a strange illness which
lasted for many weeks. When she finally recovered, all memory of her
former life seemed to have been completely blotted out of her mind,
and she no longer