“You said, Helen,” remarked Mrs. Gregory, “that you never knew about your relations. Can’t you remember any thing that happened when you was a little child?” “No,” said Helen, “not much; but I think I must have lived in the country once, though I can’t remember when. There was an old woman, very cross, that I used to be with before Mr. Armstrong took me. She used to beat me sometimes.” “How did she look?” said the lady, feeling a strange interest—for which she found it difficult to account—in the child’s story. “She was very tall; and she used to look at me—oh! so fiercely!” “And is there nothing, no little keepsake, that you have, to remind you of those childish days?” “Yes,” said Helen, “there was one. It was an ivory ring that I have always carried around with me. The tall woman tried to take it away from me one day; but I cried so that she let me keep it.” “Have you got it with you?” asked Mrs. Gregory, in great agitation. “Yes,” said Helen, surprised at the strange effect this communication appeared to have upon her mistress. “I always carry it in the pocket of my dress.” Mrs. Gregory, with trembling hands, sought the receptacle indicated, and drew out an ivory ring, on which were inscribed the letters “H. G.” Without a word, she sprang to the bed, clasped the bewildered Helen to her bosom, and exclaimed, tearfully,— “It is as I thought! You are my child!—my long-lost Helen!” When her emotion had in some measure subsided, she made Helen acquainted with the circumstances mentioned in the previous chapter, and also informed her that the ring, which had served as the happy means of restoring a long-lost child to her parent, was the gift of a brother of hers, who had inscribed upon it “H. G.,” as the initials of Helen’s name, and that the child had it with her on the day of her disappearance. The happiness of Helen in being restored to her mother, and the joy of the children on ascertaining that the one whom they had learned to love so well, already, was their own sister, may better be imagined than described. One leaf remains to be added to this chronicle. It relates to Armstrong, hitherto the guardian of Helen. Although the latter had received at his hands so little for which she had occasion to be thankful, she could not reconcile herself to the idea of his being imprisoned. We cannot look with indifference upon the punishment of one with whom we have been intimately associated, however well deserved it may be.