could give. She had long been in the
fatal toils of that dread destroyer, heart disease, and suddenly,
before she had found opportunity for securing her little daughter
further, as she had since begun to realize it was needful to do, she
was seized with a paroxysm that snapped the frail cord of life.

A short time before her death, she had given into the keeping of old
Hagar, a package, to be delivered to little Madeline when she should
become a woman, and with the express wish that, should John Arthur
prove a kind guardian meanwhile, she would burn the journal it
contained, unread.

Old Hagar now placed in Madeline's hands the package, which was found
to contain her mother's most valuable jewels, and the tear-stained
journal, which the girl seated herself to peruse, with sorrowful awe.

The last page being turned, and the sad life of her mother fully
revealed, Madeline bowed her head and wept bitterly, heedless of the
attempt of old Hagar to comfort her, until the name of her step-father
upon the old woman's lips brought her suddenly to her feet, the tears
still on her cheeks, but her eyes flashing, and on her countenance a
look that might have been a revelation to John Arthur, had that
gentleman been there to see. Taking the old woman's hand, and holding
it tightly in her own, the girl said:

"Thanks, auntie, for recalling me. I have no time for tears now.
Listen, and don't interrupt me. My poor mother died with a heart
filled with fears for my future, left to that man's keeping. At the
time of her death, he believed himself her unconditional heir. She
feared for her life with him, and her sickness was aggravated in every
possible manner by him, and I fully believe that, in intent if not in
deed, John Arthur is my _mother's murderer_!"

The old woman's face expressed as plainly as words could do, that she
shared in this belief. The girl went on, in the same rapid, firm tone:

"He killed the mother for gold, and now he would sell her child. He
will fail; and this is but the beginning. As he drove my mother into
her grave, I will hunt him into his! He shall suffer all that she
suffered, and more! I know where you obtained your independence now,
Aunt Hagar; and he hates you doubly because my mother's love provided
for you a home, and for her child a haven in time of need. It was
well. Keep the old cottage open for me, Aunt Hagar. Keep an eye on
John Arthur, for my sake. Never fear for me, whatever happens. Expect