," said the woman,
drawing a sealed envelope from a bag which she carried on her arm.

The cooper's wife nervously broke open the letter, and read as
follows:--

"MRS. CRUMP;

"Eight years ago last New Year's night, a child was left on your
door-steps, with a note containing a request that you would care for
it kindly as your own. Money was sent, at the same time, to defray the
expenses of such care. The writer of this note is the mother of the
child Ida. There is no need to say, here, why I sent the child away
from me. You will easily understand that only the most imperative
circumstances would have led me to such a step. Those circumstances
still prevent me from reclaiming the child, and I am content, still, to
leave Ida in your charge. Yet, there is one thing of which I am
desirous. You will understand a mother's desire to see, face to face,
the child who belongs, of right, to her. With this view, I have come to
this neighborhood. I will not say where, for concealment is necessary
to me. I send this note by a trustworthy attendant,--Mrs. Hardwick,
my little Ida's nurse in her infancy,--who will conduct Ida to me, and
return her again to you. Ida is not to know whom she is visiting. No
doubt she believes you her mother, and it is well. Tell her only, that
it is a lady who takes an interest in her, and that will satisfy her
childish curiosity. I make this request as

"IDA'S MOTHER."

Mrs. Crump read this letter with mingled feelings. Pity for the writer;
a vague curiosity in regard to the mysterious circumstances which had
compelled her to resort to such a step; a half feeling of jealousy,
that there should be one who had a claim to her dear adopted daughter
superior to her own; and a strong feeling of relief at the assurance
that Ida was not to be permanently removed,--all these feelings affected
the cooper's wife.

"So you were Ida's nurse," she said, gently.

"Yes, ma'am," said the stranger. "I hope the dear child is well."

"Perfectly well. How much her mother must have suffered from the
separation!"

"Indeed, you may say so, ma'am. It came near to break her heart."

"So it must," said sympathizing Mrs. Crump. "There is one thing I would
like to ask," she continued, hesitating and reddening. "Don't answer it
unless you please. Was--is Ida the child of shame?"

"She is not," answered the nurse.

Mrs. Crump looked relieved. It removed a thought from her mind which
would now and then intrude, though it