her, or inquired for her. The
thoughts of William and his heartless wife caused old feelings of
indignation to awaken and burn; but when the image of Charles and
Florence came up before her mind, her eyes were ready to overflow. It
was now that she remembered, with changed emotions, the cruel manner in
which she had spurned Charles and the wife of his bosom. A sigh
struggled up from her heart, and she leaned down her face upon the
table before which she was sitting. Just at this time, a small sealed
package was handed to her. She broke it open carelessly; but its
contents made her heart bound, coming as they did just at that crisis.
Under cover was a bank-bill amounting to one thousand dollars, and this
memorandum--"It is yours."

Quickly turning to the direction, she read it over two or three times
before satisfying herself that there was no mistake. Then she examined
the writing within and without closely, in order to ascertain, if
possible, from whom the timely aid had come, but without arriving at
any certain conclusion.

This incident caused a new train of thoughts to pass through the mind
of Mrs. Linden. It brought before her, she could not tell why, the
image of her son Charles with greater distinctness than ever; and with
that came thoughts of his wife, and regret that she had thrown her off
with such cruel anger. Acute pain of mind succeeded to this. She saw
more clearly her own position in that act, and felt deeply the wrong
she had committed.

"I will write to my son at once and ask his forgiveness, and that of
his wife, whom I have wronged," she said, with a suddenly formed
resolution. But pride rushed up instantly.

"No, no," it objected; "not now. You should have done this before: it
is too late; they will not believe you sincere."

A painful conflict ensued, which continued with increasing violence
until, in consequence of prolonged mental excitement, a slow nervous
fever took hold of Mrs. Linden's physical system, and in a short time
reduced her to a very critical state. Intelligence of this was conveyed
to her son William, but, for some cause or other, neither himself nor
wife visited her. At the end of a week she was so low as to be
considered in great danger; she, no longer recognised the person of her
attendant, or appeared to be conscious of what was passing around her.

A letter from a friend, through whom he was kept informed of all that
occurred to her, apprized Charles Linden of his moth