He had made a long call, when the doctor came in, and, seeing Mr. Belknap, telegraphed to Marion to speak to him in the hall. When there he only said,— "Tell your story to him: he's a good friend to you." And she did tell him, relating the death scene in the hospital more in detail than she had done before. She told him also that she had accidentally met a person who was burdened with a heavy grief, whose name, as nearly as she could recollect, was the same. She had always called her friend by her first name, and the belief grew stronger and stronger in her mind that he was the one to whom her dying friend referred. An expression on the gentleman's face had first startled her and carried her back in mind to her friend, and the recollection of the letters left in her care. He listened attentively, not saying a word till she had finished the recital. "You say she died in the Home, in the year 18—." "Yes, sir." "And that he also was in the same Home for months,—that he told the chaplain his story, as she had told hers, probably." "Yes, sir; but I didn't think"—she stopped abruptly, staring in his face, and then exclaimed, "Oh, if I could find that packet of letters! I begin to think he cannot be the one after all. Perhaps her friend has long been dead." "Where did you keep the packet?" "I must have put it where I considered it safe at the time; but her story was so vague,—and she never mentioned the relation in which this person stood to her. I fancied he might have been her lover. I was young, and thought I was to keep it till called for. I remember thinking as she was a foreigner it was not likely it would ever be delivered to any one. When I left Uncle Williamson's, I kept some papers here and sent the rest to Grantbury." "Except the green box of deeds, etc., etc., we keep in our safe." Marion started to her feet, exclaiming, "It is there! It is there! Let us go and get it." She rang the bell, told James to have the carriage round as quickly as possible, hurried on her hat and sacque, looking so eager and hopeful that her old friend said, cautiously,— "Don't be too sure, my child." She turned to him, her whole face dimpled with smiles. "I'm almost as sure," she said, "as though I had it in my hand." In a few minutes she stood at the lawyer's table, while a clerk was sent for the green box. One minute more, papers tied with red tape, worth thousands of dollars, and nicely filed receipts were scattered over the table. Near the bottom lay the missing packet, which, with a scream of joy,—"That's it,"—she caught and held to her breast. "I can't sign anything to-day," she answered, as the younger partner requested her to wait a few minutes. "If you will send the papers round, I'll do it: I'm too excited now." She ran down the stairs, whispering over and over,— "God has been very good to me"; then to the coachman,— [Illustration: SHE FELL ON HER KNEES. Page 169.] "Home as quickly as possible."