a wiser and
a better man."

"God bless you, miss!" said the man brokenly. "I have been very wicked
all my life. I have wronged many, and you more than all; but if my life
is spared, I'll make some things right."

Wondering at his words, Daisy left him and rejoined her friends, after
the brief absence which was destined to bear rich fruits to her orphaned
heart.

That night, under cover of the darkness, the man went away. But at ten
o'clock, in defiance of prudence, he came back, knocked boldly, and
asked to see Miss Templeton--he had a package for her. She came, and
placing something in her hand, abruptly left, mounted his horse, and
rode away in a fierce gallop, ere she could speak, and again Daisy
closed the door upon this thread of her romantic destiny.

On opening the package she found a coral necklace and armlets, with
clasps engraved, and a soiled, miserably-scrawled letter. The initials
on the jewels were R.M. The letter told her that he, the desperate and
outlawed writer, had been leagued with a band of reckless men some years
ago, and had stolen her away from her beautiful home in Louisville,
thinking to obtain a heavy ransom. While passing through Garrard county,
he, the man to whose care the gang had confided her, because he was
sort o' womanish, they said, had lagged behind intent upon a bottle of
whisky, and when he recovered his senses, the child was gone. Fearing
that she had met her death, and knowing nothing then of the picnic party
that had rescued her, he fled the country for some years, and after his
return he had never had courage to confess his crime. Her parents were
wealthy, and their name was Mentelle. He could tell her nothing of their
present whereabouts.

* * * * *

New Year's Eve comes in cold, and a deep snow envelops the earth.
A wedding party at the corner house on Danville street is the event
of the evening. Roye Howard and Daisy Mentelle have just taken their
marriage vows, and the house is crowded with guests. Just before supper
a new arrival startles and astonishes the brilliant company. Henry Clay,
grown grey with years and honors, is among them, never having lost sight
of his protege. After congratulating the pair and kissing the bride,
he bade her come with him to another apartment; and when she had
wonderingly obeyed, he proudly presented to her a handsome lady richly
dressed in mourning.

"This, my dear, is your mother. I have not rested ti