oken very kindly of you. She
wanted to come here to-day, but I did not know this, and I could not
bring her _here_!'

She looked at me with a strange surprise. Her eyes lighted, and her face
beamed, as she said: 'And you know _her_, too!'

'Know her! She is to be my wife very soon.'

She wept as she said: 'And you will tell her how much I love her--how
grateful I am to her?'

'I will,' I replied. I did not tell the poor girl, as I might have done,
that Hallet had at that time access to Mr. Russell's mails, and that,
knowing her hand-writing, he had undoubtedly intercepted her letters.

After a long pause, she resumed her story.

At the end of those two years, a financial panic swept over the country,
prostrating the great houses, and sending want and suffering into the
attics--not homes, for they have none--of the poor sewing-women. The
firm that employed her failed, and Fanny was thrown out of work. She
went to her good friend the matron, who interested some 'benevolent'
ladies in her behalf, and they procured her shirts to make at
twenty-five cents apiece! She could hardly do enough of them to pay her
board; but she could do the work at home with Franky, and that was a
comfort, for he was growing to be a bright, intelligent, affectionate
boy.

About this time, her aunt and the good matron died. She mourned for them
sincerely, for they were all the friends she had.

The severe times affected her landlady. Being unable to pay her rent,
she was sold out by the sheriff, and Fanny had to seek other lodgings.
She then took a little room by herself, and lived alone.

The death of the matron was a great calamity to her, for her
'benevolent' friends soon lost interest in her, and took from her the
poor privilege of making shirts at twenty-five cents apiece! When this
befell her, she had but four dollars and twenty cents in the world. This
she made furnish food to herself and her child for four long weeks,
while she vainly sought for work. She offered to do any thing--to sew,
scrub, cook, wash--any thing; but no! there was nothing for
her--NOTHING! She must drain the cup to the very dregs, that the
vengeance of God--and He would not be just if He did not take terrible
vengeance for crime like his--might sink John Hallet to the lowest hell!

For four days she had not tasted food. Her child was sick. She had
_begged_ a few crumbs for him, but even _he_ had eaten nothing all day.
Then the tempter came, and--why need I