a
little neck, around which was a double string of coral fastened by a
small gold clasp. Above this was a face, a baby face, with soft, pale
eyes, and its head covered with curls of the lightest yellow, not
arranged in artistic negligence, but smooth, even, and regular, as she
so often had turned, twisted, and set them. It was indeed her baby
girl who had come to her as clear and vivid in every feature, limb,
and garment, as were the real shoes upon the table. For many minutes
she stood, her eyes fixed upon the little apparition, then, slowly,
she sank upon her knees by the chair, her sun-bonnet, which she had
not removed, was bowed, so the pale eyes of the little one could not
see her face, and from her own eyes came the first tears that that old
woman had shed since her baby's clothes had been put away in the box.

* * * * *

Lawrence's letter to Miss March was a definitely expressed document,
intended to cover all the ground necessary, and no more; but it could
not be said that it was entirely satisfactory to himself. His case, to
say the least of it, was a difficult one to defend. He was aware that
his course might be looked upon by others as dishonorable, although he
assured himself that he had acted justly. It might have been better
to wait for a positive declaration from Miss March, that she had not
truly accepted him, before engaging himself to another lady. But then,
he said to himself, true love never waits for anything. At all events,
he could write no better letter than the one he had produced, and he
hoped he should have an opportunity to show it to Annie before he sent
it.

He need not have troubled himself in this regard, for he and Annie
were not disturbed during the rest of that day by the appearance
of Mrs Keswick; but after the letter had been duly considered and
approved, he found it difficult to obtain a messenger. There was no
one on the place who would undertake to walk to Midbranch, and he
could not take the liberty of using Mrs Keswick's horse for the trip,
so it was found necessary to wait until the morrow, when the letter
could be taken to Howlett's, where, if no one could be found to carry
it immediately, it would have to be entrusted to the mail which went
out the next day. Lawrence, of course, knew nothing of Mrs Keswick's
message to Midbranch, or he would have been still more desirous that
his letter should be promptly dispatched.

The evening was not a