He again wrung my hand. I had no time to think of his extraordinary rapture, nor of his queer uncalled-for words about Tom Valentine. Everything he said came back to me by and by; but I had no room in my mind to dwell upon his words at that moment. There was no doubt whatever that the packet held in my hand brought good fortune to me and mine. Ugly Poverty might take to himself wings and fly away--he and I-- he and those I loved, would not have even a bowing acquaintance in future. This fact was quite sufficient to fill my mind to the exclusion of all other ideas. I went home early--had tea with my mother--said nothing at all about the packet which lay in my pocket, but listened to a long and miserable letter from Jack, while I held in my hand a little note from Hetty, which I knew must be sad, but which scarcely troubled me at that moment, for I also knew how soon I could relieve my dear little sister's anxieties; how absolutely it now lay in my power to comfort and aid her, and to give to Jack all the good things which would make him a manly fellow once more. I do not think in my whole life I ever felt happier than I did that evening. My fatigue had vanished--a feeling of absolute rest reigned in my heart; even the annoyances, the vexations, the penury of home brought to me a sense of rejoicing. It was sweet to know that with a touch of my magic wand I could sweep them once and for ever out of sight. If I was happy, however, this could scarcely be said of any of the rest of the family. My mother had a headache; she had also caught cold, and the cough, which always more or less racked her slender frame, was worse than usual. My father kept looking at her anxiously. He really did love my beautiful, gentle mother very much. George was disagreeable and morose; and my mother's eyes kept straying in the direction where Jack's photograph stood. She was thinking no doubt of that last letter from the poor fellow. Never mind, these were passing clouds, and knowing how soon I could chase them away, I felt scarcely any pain as I watched them. At last, one by one, my family bade me good-night. I stayed down-stairs to put the little house in order, and then, going up to my room, locked my door, and prepared to acquaint myself with the contents of that letter, which was to turn all the dross of my life into pure and glittering gold. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. UGLY POVERTY AND I. Cousin Geoffrey had sealed his letter with red wax. He had stamped the seal with his own signet-ring, which gave the impress of a coat-of-arms with a quaint device. That device became a household word with me by and by, but I was too impatient even to trouble myself to decipher it just then. I spread the thick sheets of paper before me, and gave myself up to the luxury of satisfying the most burning curiosity which surely ever besieged a girl.