“I am all alone in the world, madam. My mother died several weeks ago, and I sold all our room furniture and my clothes to bury her. All I have earned since then I have spent in food and a mourning dress. This morning I asked at the factory where I work for a small advance on my wages, but was refused. Perhaps--if I had--told them I was--was--starving--they would have given it to me, but--I could not.” Mrs. Howard began to find out that she could shed tears over something else than her own grief. The bright drops rained down her cheeks as Fair added, in the intensity of her emotion: “Oh, madam, would that I could change places with your daughter, and restore her to you! I would gladly die and rest my weary head in the grave, for this morning I was turned out of doors by my landlady, and I have no home and nowhere to go.” Mrs. Howard recovered her voice, and by a few questions elicited from Fair her whole life story, with the exception of her marriage to Carl Bernicci. An instinctive feeling that the lady would disapprove of it, and a fear lest she should refuse to help her on that account, kept her perfectly silent as to that fact. Mrs. Howard saw the beautiful brown eyes turned to her pleadingly, and she knew that the unhappy creature was mutely pleading for her protection. The thought touched her deeply, although she did not know what deep cause Fair had for wishing her regard. The thought came to her mind that there was a strange irony in the fate that had removed from earth her beautiful Azalia, who had so much to live for, and left this orphan girl, who was so wretched and desolate that she would have been glad to die. Something, too, in Fair’s haunting likeness to the dead girl touched the mother’s heart with subtle tenderness, and, yielding to the impulse that swelled her bosom with emotion, she took Fair’s cold little hand in hers, and said: “Be of good cheer, little one. I will let you remain here for the present, and when a little time has elapsed I will interest myself in your future.” Fair flung herself on her knees before her gentle benefactress, and, catching her delicate hand, covered it with tears and kisses. “Heaven bless you for your kindness!” she sobbed. A little later she was led to a beautiful sleeping apartment, and told that it was to be her own while she remained in the house. To her maid, Mrs. Howard said simply: “This young girl will be my guest some time, and as you are the only one in the house that knows of her being only a working girl, I desire that you will not communicate that fact to the servants. She is to be treated with every attention and respect.” CHAPTER XVI. LIVING IN LUXURY. Mrs. Howard went back and sat down in mournful silence beside her dead daughter, whose beauty was so soon to be hidden in the grave.