Belle returned the next day to see her protege and found her getting along comfortably although she could not help seeing it was sorrow more than disease that was sapping her life, and drying up the feeble streams of existence. "How do you feel this morning?" said Belle laying her hand tenderly upon her forehead. "Better, much better," she replied with an attempt at cheerfulness in her voice. "I am so glad, that Mother Graham is here. It is like letting the sunshine into these gloomy rooms to have her around. It all seems like a dream to me, I remember carrying a large bundle of work to the store, that my employer spoke harshly to me and talked of cutting down my wages. I also remember turning into the street, my eyes almost blinded with tears, and that I felt a dizziness in my head. The next I remember was seeing a lady feeding my children, and a gentleman coming in with Aunty Graham." "Yes," said Belle, "fortunately after I had seen you, I met with Mr. Clifford who rendered me every necessary assistance. His presence was very opportune," just then Belle turned her eyes toward the door and saw Mr. Clifford standing on the threshold. "Ah," said he smiling and advancing "this time the old adage has failed, which says that listeners never hear any good of themselves; for without intending to act the part of an eavesdropper, I heard myself pleasantly complimented." "No more than you deserve," said Belle smiling and blushing, as she gave him her hand in a very frank and pleasant manner. "Mrs. Gough is much better this morning and is very grateful to you for your kindness." "Mine," said Mr. Clifford "if you, will call it so, was only the result of an accident. Still I am very glad if I have been of any service, and you are perfectly welcome to make demands upon me that will add to Mrs. Cough's comfort." "Thank you, I am very glad she has found a friend in you. It is such a blessed privilege to be able to help others less fortunate than ourselves." "It certainly is." "Just a moment," said Belle, as the voice of Mrs. Gough fell faintly on her ear. "What is it, dear?" said Belle bending down to catch her words. "Who is that gentleman? His face and voice seem familiar." "It is Mr. Clifford." "Paul Clifford?" "Yes. Do you know him?" "Yes, I knew him years ago when I was young and happy; but it seems an age since. Oh, isn't it a dreadful thing, to be a drunkard's wife?" "Yes it is, but would you like to speak to Mr. Clifford?" "Yes! Mam, I would." "Mr. Clifford," said Belle, "Mrs. Gough would like to speak with you." "Do you not know me?" said Mary, looking anxiously into his face. "I recognized you as soon as you moved into the neighborhood." "I am very glad. I feared that I was so changed that my own dear mother would hardly recognize me. Don't you think she would pity and forgive me, if she saw what a mournful wretch I am?" "Yes, I think she has long forgiven you and longs to take you to her heart as warmly as she ever did."