r, and thinking of the night when three years ago, she lingered
in that very spot, and watched the form of the young musician go by her
and disappear in the darkness of the night, as she then thought forever.
Joy had come to her by such slow steps and after such long waiting. Hope
had burst upon her so brilliantly, and with such a speedy promise of
culmination. She thrilled as she thought how short a time ago it was,
since she leaned upon Bertram's arm and dropped her eyes before his
gaze.

The appearance of her father at length aroused her. Flushing slightly,
she held the letter towards him.

"A letter for you, papa. I thought you might like to read it before you
went out."

Mr. Stuyvesant, who for an hour or more had been frowning over his
morning paper with a steady pertinacity that left more than the usual
amount of wrinkles upon his brow, started at the wistful tone of this
announcement from his daughter's lips, and taking the letter from her
hand, stepped into the parlor to peruse it. It was, as the handwriting
declared, from Mr. Sylvester, and ran thus:

"DEAR MR. STUYVESANT:

"I have heard of your loss and am astounded. Though the Bank is
not liable for any accident to trusts of this nature, both
Bertram and myself are determined to make every effort
possible, to detect and punish the man who either through our
negligence, or by means of the opportunities afforded him under
our present system of management, has been able to commit this
robbery upon your effects. We therefore request that you will
meet us at the bank this morning at as early an hour as
practicable, there to assist us in making such inquiries and
instituting such measures, as may be considered necessary to
the immediate attainment of the object desired.

"Respectfully yours,

"EDWARD SYLVESTER."

"Is it anything serious?" asked his daughter, coming into the parlor and
looking up into his face with a strange wistfulness he could not fail to
remark.

Mr. Stuyvesant gave her a quick glance, shook his head with some
nervousness and hastily pocketed the epistle. "Business," mumbled he,
"business." And ignoring the sigh that escaped her lips, began to make
his preparations for going at once down town.

He was always an awkward man at such matters, and it was her habit to
afford him what assistance she could. This she now did, lending her hand
to help him on with his over