She had recovered full consciousness, and appeared so much better than had been expected by her physician that he declared it quite likely she would recover, if no untoward circumstances intervened. Fortunately for Finley’s purpose, the physician was watching by her bed alone, having persuaded the family to go into the dining room and partake of tea. A clever thought came to Finley, and he exclaimed: “Doctor Hewitt, a man has fallen in a fit on the corner two squares below, and they are hunting a physician everywhere. I will watch beside Alice if you will go.” The physician seized his hat, and, promising to return after a while, darted out, leaving the grocer in possession. He stooped over Alice, who was regarding him with wide-open, loathing eyes, for he was universally hated by his stepchildren, and, bending down, whispered hurriedly: “Your sister Pansy is coming to see you. Mind, there must be no outcry, and you must never tell any one she came, for she can stay but a few minutes, and no one must ever know she has been here.” In a few minutes more the two long-parted sisters were weeping in each other’s arms. “Do not try to talk, my darling sister,” whispered Pansy fondly, while Finley adroitly lowered the gas and turned the key in the door. Tenderly caressing Alice, Pansy continued: “I was not drowned, Alice, but I made you all think so that you might not worry over my fate. I am the wife of a good man, but he does not know my sad story, and I can never own my relatives, for then he would find out everything, and he is so proud he would cast me off. But I could not stay away, dear, when they told me you were dying, so I came in secret.” “I am glad that you came, my precious sister; but there is some mistake about my dying, for the doctor says I have a fair chance of getting well,” Alice answered feebly. “Thank Heaven!” murmured her beautiful sister, and the silence of deep emotion fell over them as they clung to each other. Finley looked on with exultation. These moments of reunion between the long-parted sisters were worth a thousand dollars to him now, and much more in the future; for, having once established a claim on Pansy, he would never rest satisfied until he had wrung from her every dollar she could command for years to come. “Oh, Alice, I long to see our mother, but I dare not do so. She must never know that I am living. You must keep the secret of this meeting, and, oh, you must love her well, and be very good to her for my sake, as well as your own,” murmured Pansy, with tears in her beautiful eyes, as she drew herself reluctantly from Alice’s clasping arms. “Must you go so soon?” sighed the suffering girl.