for a husband whom she had
often asserted to be a good-for-nothing scamp. She looked at the
matter chiefly in a pecuniary point of view, and, on making a rapid
calculation, came to the conclusion that any deficiency caused by the
loss of the small fraction of his earnings that came into her
possession would be more than made up by her being relieved of the
maintenance of Nelly, for whom she did not consider it her duty any
longer to provide.

But in Nelly herself Michael Connor had at least one true mourner. She
forgot all her father's carelessness and neglect, and remembered only
that he was her father, who used in days long past, when her mother
was alive, to take her on his knee and call her his "darlint." When it
broke fully on her mind that she should never see him again--that he
had left her for ever, as her mother had done--her grief for a while
knew no control. Poor child, she had literally no one in the world
"belonging to her," so far as she knew, and she felt utterly desolate
and forlorn. Finding but little comfort at home, where her new
mother's cold, unfeeling remarks only aggravated her sorrow, she
betook herself to Lucy, who had just heard, with great concern, of
Nelly's bereavement. She did her best to comfort her; and though at
first the kind words only seemed to make the tears flow faster, by
degrees the child was soothed and calmed, and able to listen to Mr.
Raymond when he laid his hand kindly on her head and told her that she
must look to God as her Father now, and must go and "tell Jesus" all
her troubles. Then he made her repeat after him the verse, "When my
father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up."

"But, Miss Lucy," said Nelly, as she was going away, "where is it I'm
going to live now?"

"Why, is your mother going away?"

"Niver a bit, miss; but she says she's kept me long enough now, and
she won't keep me any longer."

Lucy could scarcely believe that this could be more than one of Mrs.
Connor's meaningless threats, and tried to reassure Nelly that it
would be all right. But Mrs. Steele, knowing Mrs. Connor's hard,
selfish nature, was by no means so sure that there might not be
something in it, and was not surprised when she appeared next day to
say that she thought Nelly's grand friends might do something for her
now her poor father was gone, and she had no one to look to her.

"But she has you, of course," Mrs. Steele replied. "We shall be very
glad to help you