she saw?"

"I fear so. She was half-asleep when I went in, dreaming as it seemed,
and pleasantly. It was cruel to disturb her; indeed I had not the heart,
so I just laid the folded paper near her hand and waited, but not too
near, not within sight of her face. A few minutes later--interminable
minutes to me--I heard the paper rattle, but I did not move. I was where
she could see me, so she knew that she was not alone and presently I
caught the sound of a strange noise from her lips, then a low cry, then
the quick inquiry in sharper and more peremptory tones than I had ever
before heard from her, 'Where did this come from? Who has dared to send
me this?' I advanced quickly. I told her about you and your desire to
see her; how you had asked me to bring her up this little sketch so that
she would know that you had real business with her; that I regretted
troubling her when she felt so weak, but that you promised revelations
or some such thing--at which I thought she grew very pale. Are you quite
convinced that you have news of sufficient importance to warrant the
expectations you have raised in her?"

"Let me see her," I prayed.

She made a sign and we both left the room.

Mrs. Ocumpaugh awaited me in her own boudoir on the second floor. As we
went up the main staircase I was afforded short glimpses of room after
room of varying richness and beauty, among them one so dainty and
delicate in its coloring that I presumed to ask if it were that of the
missing child.

Miss Porter's look as she shook her head roused my curiosity.

"I should be glad to see her room," I said.

She stopped, seemed to consider the matter for a moment, then advanced
quickly and, beckoning me to follow, led me to a certain door which she
quietly opened. One look, and my astonishment became apparent. The room
before me, while large and sunny, was as simple, I had almost said as
bare, as my sister's at home. No luxurious furnishings here, no
draperies of silk and damask, no half-lights drawing richness from
stained glass, no gleam of silver or sparkle of glass on bedecked
dresser or carved mantel. Not even the tinted muslins I had seen in some
nurseries; but a plain set of furniture on a plain carpet with but one
object of real adornment within the four walls. That was a picture of
the Madonna opposite the bed, and that was beautiful. But the frame was
of the cheapest--a simple band of oak.

Catching Miss Porter's eye as we quietly withdrew, I