"I will just wait till the morning," she said to herself, as she came down from the drawing-room after dispensing the after-dinner coffees. "Nancy! Nancy!" cried her younger sister Edith, at that moment. "Where are you?" "I am here, dear," Nancy replied. "What is the matter?" The child, for Edith was only some thirteen or fourteen years old, came running up the stairs two steps at a time. "Here’s a letter for you, Nancy," she said eagerly. "A letter?" cried Nancy, her mind flying at once to her story. "Yes, it’s got a Queen’s head on it or something. Here it is." The two girls reached the large and dimly-lighted entrance-hall together, one from upstairs and one from down. "Give it to me," said Nancy, breathlessly. She felt that it was a letter about her story. The very fact that it had come without an accompanying roll of manuscript gave her hope. She tore open the envelope with trembling fingers, and by the light of the single flickering gas-lamp, read its contents. "The Editor of the _Family Beacon_ presents his compliments to Miss Macdonald, and will be pleased to accept her story, ’Out of Gloom into the Sun,’ for the sum of fifteen guineas, for which a cheque will be sent immediately on receipt of her reply." For a few moments the poor painted hall, with its gaunt umbrella stand and cold black and white marble floor, seemed to be rocking up and down, and spinning round and round. The revulsion of feeling was so intense that the girl staggered up against the wall, fighting hard with her palpitating heart. "Oh, Nancy, what is it?" cried Edith, staring in a fright at her sister’s chalk-white face. "Is it bad news?" "Oh, no, GOOD news; the best news. Where’s Mother? I----" she could not speak, she simply could not finish the sentence. Her trembling lips refused to perform their office. In her shaking hands she still clutched the precious letter, and gathering her wits together, she turned and literally tore down the stairs to the basement. "Mother! Mother! Where are you?" she cried. "What is it?" cried Mrs. Macdonald, who, poor soul, was ready for all and every evil that could fall upon her. For a moment Nancy tried to control herself sufficiently to speak, but the revulsion of feeling was too great. Twice she opened her mouth, but no words would come. Then she dropped all of a heap at her mother’s feet, and hiding her head upon her knee, she burst into a passion of tears. [Illustration: Then she dropped all of a heap at her mother’s feet, and hiding her head upon her knee, she burst into a passion of tears.]