"Then, you have a daughter!" cried Lizzie in a tone of delight. "A daughter, my dear, whom I have not seen since she was a little child--and who they told me was dead. But I have seen her--I have seen her, if there is truth in nature! After all these years I have seen her--when she most needs a mother's care and counsel. I am praying now for the hours to pass quickly that I may fold her to my heart." "Is she coming to you to-morrow, Mrs. Lenoir?" "There is my misery. She knows nothing of me, and I am in ignorance where she lives. But I am promised--I am promised! God will help me--He will surely help me, after my long years of anguish!" She said not another word, and Lizzie was soon asleep; but Mrs. Lenoir lay awake through the greater part of the night, with a prayer in her heart as fervent as any ever whispered to Heaven from the depths of tribulation. Towards morning, nature asserted her claim, and slumber fell upon her troubled soul. It was almost noon when she awoke; and Lizzie was bustling about the room. "I am going to stop with you till you're better," said the girl; "perhaps I can help you. I'll take care not to be in the way if I'm not wanted." Mrs. Lenoir accepted the service, feeling the need of it at this crisis. She was up and dressed, and breakfast was over, when Lizzie's quick ears took her out of the room. She returned immediately. "A gentleman is asking for a woman he saw home last night to this house. It must be you by his description." "Let him come in, Lizzie." Lizzie looked at Ned Chester with admiration. In her eyes he was every inch a gentleman, with his fine clothes, and gold chain, and diamond ring on his ungloved hand. "This is Mrs. Lenoir," she said. "Mrs. Lenoir!" he repeated. "Ah, well, I didn't know the name. Are you better?" He had commenced speaking in a free and familiar tone, such as a man adopts who is addressing one for whom he has no great feeling of respect, but before he had uttered even these few words his tone altered. Mrs. Lenoir had taken unusual pains with her dress, and she presented so different an appearance from that which he expected--she looked so gentle and lady-like--that he was compelled into a more deferential and respectful manner. "I am glad you are come," said Mrs. Lenoir; "I was afraid you might forget your promise, or that it had been given lightly." "What promise?" he asked. "That I should see her again--the young lady who was with you last night." "Oh, the Duchess!" he exclaimed involuntarily, and the next moment biting his lips at the betrayal. "The Duchess!" echoed Mrs. Lenoir, in amazement. "A pet name," he said quickly. "You shall see her again, as I promised. But I have come on a different matter. I lost a silver cigar-case last night. Have you got it?" Mrs. Lenoir rose, and gazed at him in perplexity and fear.