t something forgotten
would come to light, some unremembered sum, to relieve them from
absolute want. But Mr. Buscarlet's search has proved ineffective.

Now, however, when hope is actually at an end, all her natural
self-reliance and bravery return to her; and in the very mouth of
despair she makes a way for herself and for those whom she loves to
escape.

After two nights' wakeful hesitation, shrinking, doubt, and fear, she
forms a resolution, from which she never afterward turns aside until
compelled to do so by unrestrainable circumstances.

"It is a very distressing case," says Mr. Buscarlet, blowing his nose
oppressively,--the more so that he feels for her very sincerely;
"distressing, indeed. I don't know one half so afflicting. I really
do--not--see what is to be done."

"Do not think me presumptuous if I say I do," says Molly. "I have a
plan already formed, and, if it succeeds, I shall at least be able to
earn bread for us all."

"My dear young lady, how? You with--ahem!--you must excuse me if I
say--your youth and beauty, how do you propose to earn your bread?"

"It is my secret as yet,"--with a faint wan smile. "Let me keep it a
little longer. Not even Mrs. Massereene knows of it. Indeed, it is too
soon to proclaim my design. People might scoff it; though for all that
I shall work it out. And something tells me I shall succeed."

"Yes, yes, we all think we shall succeed when young," says the old
lawyer, sadly, moved to keenest compassion at sight of the beautiful,
earnest face before him. "It is later on, when we are faint and weary
with the buffetings of fortune, the sad awakening comes."

"I shall not be disheartened by rebuffs; I shall not fail," says Molly,
intently. "However cold and ungenerous the world may prove, I shall
conquer it at last. Victory shall stay with me."

"Well, well, I would not discourage any one. There are none so worthy
of praise as those who seek to work out their own independence, whether
they live or die in the struggle. But work--of the sort you mean--is
hard for one so young. You have a plan. Well, so have I. But have you
never thought of your grandfather? He is very kindly disposed toward
you; and if he----"

"I have no time for 'buts' and 'ifs,'" she interrupts him, gently. "My
grandfather may be kindly disposed toward _me_, but not toward
_mine_,--and that counts for much more. No, I must fall back upon
myself alone. I have quite made up my mind," says Molly, thro