“With her old nurse—a free colored woman, who was very fond of her. Mauma Gregory was her name. I begged her to come to me, and would have been glad of her company, for her mother and I were great friends during our youth; but she feared to hurt her nurse’s feelings, while she hoped to obtain a situation in a few days, and thought it best not to change her address.” “Is that old nurse living now?” Everet eagerly asked. “I am sure I cannot tell. If she is, she must be very aged, and I think it doubtful.” “Where did she live at that time?” Miss Southern told him the street and number, directing him, as well as she could, how to find it. “I never saw the girl again,” she went on, sadly. “After her call I did not hear anything of her, and, feeling interested to know how she had succeeded, I went one day to see Mauma Gregory, and make inquiries about her. The woman was herself in deep trouble on account of her. She told me that Annie had remained with her about two weeks, and during that time she received two applications to go into families as a governess, and about the same time she also received a letter that appeared to agitate her considerably. A day or two later, she told Mauma Gregory that she was going to a situation out of town—she would not tell where, but said she would write about it as soon as she was settled in it. But she never did—at least, her nurse had not heard anything from her at the end of another year, and in great grief told me she was sure that Miss Annie must be dead, or she would never have treated her so.” “It seems very strange that a young and beautiful girl should drop suddenly out of the world like that, and no one ever learn her fate,” Everet remarked, thoughtfully. “It does indeed,” said Miss Southern, “and yet she had no near friends to interest themselves for her; there appeared to be no one, save her nurse and myself, who had any special interest in her, and what could two weak women do, with no tangible facts to work upon? I have a theory of my own about the matter, however, though it may be far from the truth.” “What is it? Tell me, please,” the young man urged, eagerly. The old lady regarded him curiously. “You seem strangely interested in a generation of the past,” she dryly observed. “I am,” he acknowledged, frankly. “I have only very recently learned this story about the Dales, and their connection with my own family. Yesterday, while I was out riding, I came to a small cottage which attracted my attention. I dismounted and went to peer in at one of the windows, but every curtain was down. I finally forced an entrance by a back door, and found the house furnished just as its occupants had left it many years ago. I was convinced from what I had already heard that it was the Dale cottage.” “Was it a small white cottage, standing near an old mill, and not far from the pond? Was there a low ornamental fence around the yard, and a veranda entirely surrounding the house?” Miss Southern asked.