obtained a clew to the child. She had been taken from the hospital by
the Sisters of Charity, and sent to Strasburg, that she might not have
a relapse. Mr. Checkynshaw went to Strasburg alone.

On his return he assured his wife that he had found Marguerite; that
she was happy with the Sisters, and cried when he spoke of taking her
away. The devoted ladies were very much attached to her, he said; and
he had concluded that it would be best to leave her there, at least
until they were ready to embark for home. Mrs. Checkynshaw did not
object. She had no love for the child, and though she had treated her
well from a sense of duty, was rather glad to get rid of her.

The family remained in Europe till the next spring. Mr. Checkynshaw
went to see his daughter again. The Sisters were educating her, and he
declared that Marguerite was so very happy with them, and begged so
hard not to be taken from them, that he had consented to let her remain
at their school. Mrs. Checkynshaw did not care; she thought it was
strange; but if the child's father deemed it best for her to remain
with the Sisters, it was not for her to say anything. She did not say
anything--Marguerite was not her own child.

When they returned to Boston, the friends of the Osbornes wished to
know what had become of the child. Mr. Checkynshaw had not informed any
one of the death of Marguerite when the intelligence came to him in his
wife's letter, though Mrs. Wittleworth had received it direct from the
same source. He had grieved deeply at the loss of the child. Yet his
sorrow was not alone for poor Marguerite; the block of stores, every
year increasing in value, must not pass out of his hands.

"The poor child had the cholera in Paris, and was sent to the
hospital," was his reply. "When she recovered, Mrs. Checkynshaw was
down with the disease, and the Sisters of Charity took her in charge.
They treated her as a mother treats her own child, and Marguerite loves
them better than she does my wife. I don't like to say anything about
it, and will not, except to most intimate friends; but Marguerite was
not Mrs. Checkynshaw's own daughter. They were not very fond of each
other, and--well, I think you ought to be able to understand the matter
without my saying anything more. The poor child is very happy where she
is, and I had not the heart to separate her from such dear friends."

Everybody inferred that Mrs. Checkynshaw did not treat the child well,
and no more