“And then that hope, that fairy hope, Oh! she awaked such happy dreams, And gave my soul such tempting scope, For all its dearest, fondest schemes!”--MOORE. For more than a month Floy tarried at Clearfield, diligently pursuing her investigations, yet without gaining the faintest clue to the fate of her whom she so ardently desired to find. The proprietors of the shanty inn had removed farther west years ago, but to what particular point none could tell; the two switchmen had gone into the army early in the civil war and were probably among the slain, and the telegraph operator, it was conjectured, had met the same fate. Floy of course knew nothing of the Heywoods; but they too had left the vicinity so long ago that no one who heard of her through the advertisements or otherwise thought of connecting them with the object of her search. At length she was forced to give it up in despair. She had spent a good deal in advertising, and her means were nearly exhausted. The heirs, as Mr. Crosby had duly informed her, had refused to allow her any share in Mr. Kemper’s estate, and five hundred dollars which he had deposited in a bank in her name was all her inheritance. She must now do something for her own support. Her education qualified her for teaching, but finding no opening for that, while one presented itself for the learning of dress-making, for which she possessed both taste and talent, she decided to avail herself of it. Her plan was to go to Chicago and apprentice herself to one of the most fashionable mantua-makers there. Miss Wells would have been rejoiced to take Floy under her wing, but the girl felt an unconquerable repugnance to beginning her new career in Cranley, the scene of her former prosperity, and where she could not hope to avoid occasionally meeting with the Aldens. In fact, her sensitive dread of such encounters led to the resolve not to return thither at all, but to go directly to the city and begin the new life at once, such a place as she desired having been already secured for her through some of her Clearfield friends. She had formed a strong attachment for Mrs. Bond, which was fully reciprocated. They could not part without pain, yet cheered each other with the hope of meeting again at no very distant day, as Floy thought of returning to Clearfield to set up business on her own account when once she should be prepared for that. “Don’t despair, dear child; brighter days will come; something tells me you will find your mother yet,” the old lady said in bidding her good-by. As the train sped on its way through the busy streets of the town, over the prairies dotted here and there with neat farm-houses, and anon plunged into forests gay with the rich coloring of the Frost King’s pencil, Floy set herself resolutely to put aside thoughts of her losses, disappointments, anxieties, and perplexities, and to fix them upon the blessings that were still left her.