erious circumstances
which had compelled her to resort to such a step; a half feeling of
jealousy, that there should be one who had a claim to her dear, adopted
daughter, superior to her own; and a strong feeling of relief at the
assurance that Ida was not to be permanently removed--all these feelings
affected the cooper's wife.

"So you were Ida's nurse?" she said, gently.

"Yes, ma'am," said the stranger. "I hope the dear child is well?"

"Perfectly well. How much her mother must have suffered from the
separation!"

"Indeed you may say so, ma'am. It came near to breaking her heart."

"I don't wonder," said sympathizing Mrs. Harding. "I can judge of that
by my own feelings. I don't know what I should do, if Ida were to be
taken from me."

At this point in the conversation, the cooper entered the house. He had
come home on an errand.

"It is my husband," said Mrs. Harding, turning to her visitor, by way of
explanation. "Timothy, will you come here a moment?"

The cooper regarded the stranger with some surprise. His wife hastened
to introduce her as Mrs. Hardwick, Ida's old nurse, and placed in her
husband's hands the letter which we have already read.

He was not a rapid reader, and it took him some time to get through the
letter. He laid it down on his knee, and looked thoughtful.

"This is indeed unexpected," he said, at last. "It is a new development
in Ida's history. May I ask, Mrs. Hardwick, if you have any further
proof? I want to be careful about a child that I love as my own. Can you
furnish any other proof that you are what you represent?"

"I judged that the letter would be sufficient. Doesn't it speak of me as
the nurse?"

"True; but how can we be sure that the writer is Ida's mother?"

"The tone of the letter, sir. Would anybody else write like that?"

"Then you have read the letter?" asked the cooper, quickly.

"It was read to me before I set out."

"By whom?"

"By Ida's mother. I do not blame you for your caution," said the
visitor. "You must be deeply interested in the happiness of the dear
child, of whom you have taken such excellent care. I don't mind telling
you that I was the one who left her at your door, seven years ago, and
that I never left the neighborhood until I saw you take her in."

"And it was this that enabled you to find the house to-day?"

"You forget," corrected the nurse, "that you were not then living in
this house, but in another, some rods off, on the left-hand