flush, and a warm tear, said, half pettishly, half mournfully, "Away with these ungenerous doubts! Am I never again to put faith in human nature?" Ruth answered Mr. Walter's letter. She answered it frankly and unreservedly. She stated what wages she was then receiving. She told him her name. As she went on, she felt a peace to which she had long been a stranger. She often paused to wipe the tears--tears of happiness--from her eyes. It was so sweet to believe in _somebody_ once more. She wrote a long letter--a sweet, sisterly letter--pouring out her long pent-up feelings, as though Mr. Walter had indeed been her brother, who, having been away ever since before Harry's death, had just returned, and, consequently, had known nothing about her cruel sufferings. After she had sealed and superscribed the letter, she became excessively frightened at what she had done, and thought she never could send it to Mr. Walter; but another perusal of his letter reassured her. She rose to go to the post-office, and then became conscious that she had not removed her bonnet and shawl, but had sat all this while in walking costume! "Well," said she, laughing, "this _is_ rather blue-stocking-y; however, it is all the better, as I am now ready for my walk." Ruth carried her letter to the post-office; dropping it into the letter-box with more hopeful feelings than Noah probably experienced when he sent forth the dove from the ark for the third time. CHAPTER LXIX. Mr. Walter sat in his office, looking over the morning mail. "I wonder is this from 'Floy'?" he said, as he examined a compact little package. "It bears the right post-mark, and the handwriting is a lady's. A splendid hand it is, too. There's character in that hand; I hope 'tis 'Floy's.'"