"If you very much desire it, I shall do so, though I cannot take it as security. Is this the watch you carried to the pawnbroker?" said Mrs. Gordon as she took the treasure. "Yes, ma'am. It belonged to my father." Mrs. Gordon turned over the watch, and looked at it with considerable interest, as she thought of it as a memento of the dead, and how highly it must be prized by the poor woman. "Mercy, what's this!" exclaimed she, starting back, and staggering towards her chair. "What is the matter, mother?" cried Grace, running to her side. "Are you ill?" "No, Grace; that inscription!" replied Mrs. Gordon, faintly, for she seemed very deeply moved, and on the point of swooning. "Bring me a glass of water." There was no water in the room, but Michael was in the entry, and was dispatched to procure it. He returned in a moment, and when Mrs. Gordon had in some measure recovered from the sudden shock she pointed to the inscription on the back of the watch:-- "M. G. to J. R. All for the Best." "What does, it mean, mother? I do not see anything very strange about that." "I have seen this watch before," she replied, stopping to think. "Where did your mother get this watch, Katy?" she asked, as it occurred to her that she might be arriving at a conclusion too suddenly. "It was my father's." "Where did your father get it? Did you ever hear your mother say?" "Yes, ma'am; her father, who was a rich Liverpool merchant, gave it to her husband, my father," replied Katy, who felt justified in revealing what her mother had told her to keep secret. "Mercy!" gasped Mrs. Gordon, almost overcome by her emotions. "What is the matter, mother? What has all this to do with you?" asked Grace, anxiously. "Come here, Katy, my child," continued Mrs. Gordon, as she drew the little candy merchant to her side, and warmly embraced her. "Your mother, Katy, is my sister, I have scarcely a doubt." "Why, mother! Is it possible?" exclaimed Grace. "It is even so. Mrs. Redburn, whose name we have often heard mentioned without thinking it might be the wife of John Redburn, my father's clerk, is my sister. I had given her up, and have regarded her as dead for more than ten years. But, Grace, get my things, and I will go to her at once." "Is that your portrait, ma'am?" asked Katy, pointing to the picture of the mischievous lady. "No, child; that is your mother's portrait." "I almost knew it." "It was taken when she was only sixteen years old. She was a gay, wild girl then. I suppose she is sadly changed now." The thought completely overcame Mrs. Gordon, and throwing herself upon a sofa, she wept like a child. She thought of her sister suffering from poverty and want, while she had been rolling in opulence and plenty. Grace tried to comfort her, but it was some time before she was in a condition to enter the carriage which was waiting at the door.