One thing was certain—no person who knew The Place, no one from the village, would come to that door. If it was any mortal man or woman, it must be a stranger; and the last time a stranger had crossed the “green,” all knew what had happened. If it was not a stranger, then it must be the spirit of poor “master.” They were determined not to hear. The taps were repeated. Violet and Aymer looked at each other. Something very like a moan penetrated into the apartment. Aymer immediately rose and went to the front door. He asked if any one was without; there was no answer. He opened the door; the bitter wind, bearing with it flakes of snow, drove into his face. For a moment, in the darkness, he could distinguish nothing; the next, brave as he was, he recoiled; for there lay what looked like a body at his feet. Overcoming his dread he stooped and touched—a woman’s dress. He lifted her up—the form was heavy and inanimate in his hands. “Violet, dear!” he said, “it is a woman—she has fainted; may I bring her in?” Violet’s sympathies were at once on the alert. The woman was carried in and laid upon the rug before the fire, the servant came crowding in to render assistance brandy was brought, and the stranger opened her eyes and moaned faintly. Then they saw that, although stained with travel and damp from exposure to the drifting snow her dress was that of a lady. Under the influence of the warm fire and the brandy she soon recovered sufficiently to sit up. She was not handsome nor young her best features were a broad, intellectual looking forehead, and fine dark eyes. So soon as ever she was strong enough to speak she turned to Violet, and begged to be alone with her for a little while. Aymer, with all a lover’s suspicions, demurred, but Violet insisted, and he had to be content with remaining within easy call. He had no sooner left the room than the lady, for such she appeared to be, fell upon her knees at Violet’s feet, and begged her for the sake of her father’s memory to show mercy. “Oh! spare us,” cried the unhappy creature, bursting into tears, and wringing her hands, “spare us—we are penniless. Indeed we did not do it purposely. We never knew—I am Esther Herring!” It was long before Violet could gather her meaning from these incoherent sentences. At last, under her kind words and gentle questions, Esther became calmer and explained the miserable state of affairs. Violet sighed deeply. In one moment her hopes were dashed to the ground: her money was gone; how could she and Aymer—