dgie's handwriting confronted her; but she had hardly time to marvel
how so costly a gift could come from such an impecunious donor, before
surprise number two confronted her in the opening words.

"Esmeralda told me to give you this miniature from myself, but I want
you to know that it is entirely her idea and present from the beginning.
As soon as she heard your sad news, she asked me to borrow the best
photograph of your father, to be copied by the same artist who painted
the Major for her. She has been to see how he was getting on almost
every day, till the poor man was thankful to finish it, just to be rid
of her, and here it is to welcome you, dear, and, we hope, to be a
comfort to you, all your life."

"Esmeralda!" echoed Sylvia blankly. It seemed for a moment as if
Bridgie must be romancing, for the staid English mind refused to believe
that one who had at one time appeared actively antagonistic, and at the
best had shown nothing warmer than a lofty tolerance, should suddenly
become the most thoughtful and generous of friends. Yet there it was,
specified in black and white. Esmeralda had originated the kindly plan;
she had engaged no second-rate artist, but one to whom her own work had
been entrusted, and had given freely of what was even more value to her
than money, her time, in order that the gift should arrive at the right
moment.

Sylvia flushed with a gratification which was twofold in its nature, for
here at last seemed an opening of drawing near in heart to that
beautiful, baffling personality, who was Jack's sister, and might some
day--oh, wonderful thought!--be her own also. It would be a triumph,
indeed, if in these days of waiting she could overcome the last
lingering prejudice, and feel that there would be no dissentient note
when at last the great secret was revealed.

Aunt and niece hung together over the case with its precious contents,
the one exhausting herself in expressions of gratitude and appreciation,
the other equally delighted, but quite unable to resist looking the gift
horse in the mouth, and speculating in awed tones concerning the
enormous cost of ivory miniatures. That jarred, but on the whole the
evening passed more pleasantly than Sylvia could have believed possible,
the unexpected excitement breaking the thread of that painful cross-
examination, and carrying the old lady's thoughts back to the far-off
days when she and her brother had been sworn friends and playmates.