ew very earnest as the doctor failed to
rouse up, as she thought he ought to do.

Appealing next to Anna, she continued:

"Pray, make him comprehend that his wife is at Terrace Hill."

Very gently Anna answered:

"She was there, but she has gone. He knows it; I came to tell him, but
she fled immediately after recognizing my brother, and left a letter
revealing the whole."

It had come to 'Lina by this time that Dr. Richards could never be her
husband, and with a bitter cry, she covered her face with her hands, and
went shivering to the corner where Mrs. Worthington sat, as if a
mother's sympathy were needed now, and coveted as it had never been
before.

"Oh, mother," she sobbed, laying her head in Mrs. Worthington's lap, "I
wish I had never been born."

Sadly her wail of disappointment rang through the room, and then the
convict went on with his interrupted narrative.

"When the marriage was over, Mr. Hastings took his wife to another part
of the city, hiding her from his fashionable associates, staying with
her most of the time, and appearing to love her so much that I thought
it would not be long before I should venture to tell him the truth. I
went South on a little business which a companion and myself had planned
together--the very laudable business of stealing negroes from one State
and selling them in another. Some of you know that I was caught in my
traffic, and that the negro stealer Sullivan, was safely lodged in
prison, from which he was released but two days since. Fearing there
might be some mistake, I wrote from my prison home to Adah herself, but
suppose it did not reach New York till after she had left it. My poor,
dear little girl, thoughts of her have helped to make me a better man
than I ever was before. I am not perfect now, but I certainly am not as
hard, as wicked, or bad as when I first wore the felon's dress."

A casual observer would have said that Densie Densmore had heard less of
that strange story than any one else, but her hearing faculties had been
sharpened, and not a word was missed by her--not a link lost in the
entire narrative, and when the narrator expressed his love for his
daughter, she darted upon him again, shrieking wildly:

"And that child whom you loved was the baby you stole, and I shall see
her again--shall hear that blessed name of mother from her own sweet
lips."

A little apart from the others, his eyes fixed earnestly upon the
convict, stood Hugh. His mind,