to do it at last."

"This act of atonement, madam," said Marcus, "entitles you to my respect
and sympathy. If you ever need a friend, I trust you will do me the
favor of calling on me."

"I thank you," she replied; "but I have means enough to support me for
the remainder of my days, which are numbered. The family in which I
live, little knowing my true history, are very kind to me."

The protracted conversation had not been closed too soon. A violent
cough seized upon the poor woman's frame, and shook it like a leaf. When
it had ceased, Marcus observed that her lips were streaked with blood.

He begged to send for a doctor, but she would not have one, and rose to
take her leave.

Marcus insisted, however, upon ordering a carriage for her conveyance to
the New Jersey Railroad Depot, and she at length consented to receive
that kindness from him.

To the driver he whispered words of caution, and instructed him to take
the lady to a physician, in case she was ill on the journey; and, if so,
to report, immediately thereafter, to him. He then shook her hand
frankly, and begged her again to remember that he should always be
her friend.

She smiled sadly, as she replied: "Again and again I thank you, sir; but
it is useless to accept your kind offers, for we are meeting for the
last time."

The carriage was driven slowly away.

The poor woman's word's were true; and Marcus never saw her more.

CHAPTER III

UNCLE AND NIECE.

Marcus Wilkeson had seen Pet but twice since the inquest--once in Mrs.
Crull's carriage, and once afoot, on the opposite side of the street. He
was delicately conscious that she regarded him with distrust or
aversion; and, raising his hat politely to her, bowed, and passed on. He
had expressly enjoined upon Tiffles and Overtop, in the communications
which they had with her relative to the "Cosmopolitan Window Fastener,"
not to mention his name. He shrank from appearing to force himself on
her notice.

The discovery of her real parentage had modified Marcus's sensitiveness
somewhat. He was now no longer in the ridiculous position of a
middle-aged, hopeless lover, but was an uncle, with a charming niece
whom he could honorably love like a father. His first impulse, after the
departure of the mysterious woman, was to hurry around to Mrs. Crull's
house, unpack his bundle of proofs, and embrace the dear child with
avuncular affection.

Upon him, glowing with this impulse, came the calm, deep