past midnight."

"I know, mama," and as Olive spoke, she pushed a stool to her mother's
feet, and sat down, for something in the voice assured her that she was
welcome.

"Why couldn't you sleep, dear?"

"Thinking," answered Olive, gravely. "And I wanted to talk to you, mama,
when we could be quite alone."

"Yes, dear."

"Will you tell me about Mr. Congreve, please?"

No curiosity prompted the question; that her mother knew; so, looking
down into the grave, thoughtful face, she lowered her voice, and began:

"Mr. Congreve took papa when he was left an orphan at eight years old,
and raised him, expecting to make him his heir, as he is very wealthy.
When Mr. Congreve and my father were boys they were great friends; but
in early manhood, had a bitter quarrel that has never been forgiven
either side, and they have hated each other fiercely ever since. When
Mr. Congreve found that his nephew was in love with his enemy's
daughter, he was furious with anger, and my father also objected to the
match, but not so bitterly and blind to reason, as his enemy. Your
father was threatened, plead with, and sworn at; but while he remained
firm to his intention of marrying me, he really loved his fiery uncle,
and disliked to come out in open rebellion; but a final move of Mr.
Congreve's was more than he could bear. He locked him up. Of course no
man of age and reason could stand such an indignity as that, so, making
his escape at night, he left without a word of any kind, and has never
seen his uncle but once since. A little while after we were married, we
received a letter from him, very short and bitter, saying that he could
tread the path he had chosen unmolested; that we were no more to him
than strangers, and that his new will left his property entire, to a
cousin's child, Roger Ridley Congreve, his namesake. He says now, that
when he saw papa's death in the paper, that he was touched by it, and
that he has come to help us, though I don't see how he knows we need
it."

"I do, mama."

"You, Olive?"

"Yes, mama." Olive's fingers were interlaced nervously and her eyes were
flashing warmly as she lifted them from the low fire to her mother's
face. "I know all about it, mama. Do you remember the night I talked
with papa in the study about two months ago?"

"Yes."

"Well, he told me a great deal that night about his business, that he
never told you, because he said he did not want to worry you with it
unless he had to; he