To Kate Russell Fanny wrote as soon she left the asylum, telling her of all that had happened as far as she knew, and thanking her for all her goodness and kindness to her. She waited some weeks, but no answer came; then she wrote again, but still no answer came, though that time she waited two or three months. Fearing then that something had befallen her, she mustered courage to write Mr. Russell. Still she got no reply, and she reluctantly concluded--though she had not asked them for aid--that they had ceased to feel interested in her. 'They had not, madam. Kate has often spoken very kindly of you. She wanted to come here to-day, but I did not know this, and I could not bring her _here_!' She looked at me with a strange surprise. Her eyes lighted, and her face beamed, as she said: 'And you know _her_, too!' 'Know her! She is to be my wife very soon.' She wept as she said: 'And you will tell her how much I love her--how grateful I am to her?' 'I will,' I replied. I did not tell the poor girl, as I might have done, that Hallet had at that time access to Mr. Russell's mails, and that, knowing her hand-writing, he had undoubtedly intercepted her letters. After a long pause, she resumed her story. At the end of those two years, a financial panic swept over the country, prostrating the great houses, and sending want and suffering into the attics--not homes, for they have none--of the poor sewing-women. The firm that employed her failed, and Fanny was thrown out of work. She went to her good friend the matron, who interested some 'benevolent' ladies in her behalf, and they procured her shirts to make at twenty-five cents apiece! She could hardly do enough of them to pay her board; but she could do the work at home with Franky, and that was a comfort, for he was growing to be a bright, intelligent, affectionate boy. About this time, her aunt and the good matron died. She mourned for them sincerely, for they were all the friends she had. The severe times affected her landlady. Being unable to pay her rent, she was sold out by the sheriff, and Fanny had to seek other lodgings. She then took a little room by herself, and lived alone. The death of the matron was a great calamity to her, for her 'benevolent' friends soon lost interest in her, and took from her the poor privilege of making shirts at twenty-five cents apiece! When this befell her, she had but four dollars and twenty cents in the world. This she made furnish food to herself and her child for four long weeks, while she vainly sought for work. She offered to do any thing--to sew, scrub, cook, wash--any thing; but no! there was nothing for her--NOTHING! She must drain the cup to the very dregs, that the vengeance of God--and He would not be just if He did not take terrible vengeance for crime like his--might sink John Hallet to the lowest hell!