none that paid me down so large an interest. A poor
speculation it seemed. You almost dragged me into it; but, I see that
it will yield unfailing dividends of pleasure."

"We have turned a leaf in the book of life," his friend made answer,
"and on the new page which now lies before us, we find it written, that
in wise dispensation, not in mere getting and hoarding, lies the secret
of happiness. The lake must have an outlet, and give forth its crystal
waters in full measure, if it would keep them pure and wholesome, or,
as the Dead Sea, it will be full of bitterness, and hold no life in its
bosom."

IX.

WAS IT MURDER, OR SUICIDE?

"_WHO_ is that young lady?"

A slender girl, just above the medium height, stood a moment at the
parlor door, and then withdrew. Her complexion was fair, but colorless;
her eyes so dark, that you were in doubt, on the first glance, whether
they were brown or blue. Away from her forehead and temples, the
chestnut hair was put far back, giving to her finely-cut and regular
features an intellectual cast. Her motions were easy, yet with an air
of reserve and dignity.

The question was asked by a visitor who had called a little while
before.

"My seamstress," answered Mrs. Wykoff.

"Oh!" The manner of her visitor changed. How the whole character of the
woman was expressed in the tone with which she made that simple
ejaculation! Only a seamstress! "Oh! I thought it some relative or
friend of the family."

"No."

"She is a peculiar-looking girl," said Mrs. Lowe, the visitor.

"Do you think so? In what respect?"

"If she were in a different sphere of life, I would say that she had
the style of a lady."

"She's a true, good girl," answered Mrs. Wykoff, "and I feel much
interested in her. A few years ago her father was in excellent
circumstances."

"Ah!" With a slight manifestation of interest.

"Yes, and she's been well educated."

"And has ridden in her own carriage, no doubt. It's the story of
two-thirds of your sewing girls." Mrs. Lowe laughed in an
unsympathetic, contemptuous way.

"I happen to know that it is true in Mary Carson's case," said Mrs.
Wykoff.

"Mary Carson. Is that her name?"

"Yes."

"Passing from her antecedents, as the phrase now is, which are neither
here nor there," said Mrs. Lowe, with a coldness, or rather coarseness
of manner, that shocked the higher tone of Mrs. Wykoff's feelings,
"what is she as a seamstress? Can she fit children?--litt