passing remembrance; her feelings were unaffectedly and deeply engaged in the matter in hand. Miss Montressor's wardrobe contained nothing suitable to be worn as an out-door dress of the sort which she required; but she remedied the deficiency by putting on a thick dark shawl, which she found among the parcel of wraps, and removing the too conspicuous feather from her hat, over which she pinned a veil. As she unfolded the shawl the sharp end of a pin caught her finger. 'How tiresome of Justine,' she muttered, 'to leave pins stuck in shawls! I have so often spoken to her about it;' and she turned over the folds of the garment to find the obnoxious object. It was a long gold pin with a carved head, rather intended for a gentleman's necktie than as a shawl fastener; the stone was a very fine specimen of intaglio work, and Miss Montressor looked at it without any recognition of whence it came. It was not hers; and as it was a very uncommon article, it was not the sort of thing to be picked up on the floor or anywhere, as people pick up ordinary pins. 'I wonder whose it is, and how I came by it?' she thought, as she mechanically used it to fasten the shawl. She then went quickly clown the stairs, and passed out of the door, comparatively unnoticed. It was early in the day, and the customary groups of loungers had not yet assembled. On leaving the hotel, Miss Montressor turned to the right, and making inquiry of the first person whom she met as to the distance which divided her from that portion of Fifth-avenue in which Mrs. Griswold's house was situate, learned that she would be overtaken in about a minute by a street car, which would deposit her close by. She had barely thanked her informant when the car came up, and the man to whom she had spoken signalled to the conductor; the next moment Miss Montressor was making her first experience of the marvellously-convenient and well-arranged street locomotion of New York. As she seated herself, a sudden recollection flashed across her that the pin which she had been so surprised to find in her shawl had belonged to Mr. Foster. With the suddenness of the vision, the little circumstance which had placed it in her possession returned to her memory--again she felt the slight chill of the evening air; she saw Mr. Foster's face, and felt his careful hands drawing the warm folds around her; remembering that he held them together with one hand, as he removed the pin from his own necktie with the other. How came she to have forgotten this pin--to have omitted returning it to him? It was a strange oversight. How curious and mysterious, should it be now destined to be an important coincidence! 'His wife will remember it,' she thought. 'If we are right in our terrible belief, my bringing it to her, my requesting her to identify it, will enable me to prove my sad story to the poor lady.' What was it Mr. Foster had told her about this pin? She must try to