small package.
"It was left here a moment ago, by a tall gentleman so completely
muffled in furs that I could only get a glimpse of a pair of handsome
eyes. If you will not think me too curious, I should like to know what
it contains."

"Open it dear," said the mother languidly.

All uttered an exclamation, as a roll of bank bills fell to the floor.
There was a brief note, which ran as follows:

"MADAM--Please accept this in payment of a debt, due your late
husband by the writer."

That was all, and there was no signature.

"How strange," said the widow; "I knew but little of Mr. Graystone's
business affairs. It is providential."

"Just five hundred dollars," said Mrs. Mann; "Why, Clemence, it's a
fortune! Why don't you tell us how pleased you are? You do not say
anything."

It was true this sudden and unexpected relief, from an unknown source,
had bewildered the girl. She could hardly bring herself to realize that
her pecuniary troubles were at an end, for the time being, at least.

"I am very much pleased, Mrs. Mann," she said, brightening, "but give me
time to get accustomed to my sudden accession of wealth, pray!"

"I would give anything to get that sad look out of your face," said the
good woman, coming closer to the girl, and folding her in a motherly
embrace. "Go out for a walk, you have been in the house all day, and you
look pale and weary."

The long day drew to a close, and night came on dark and chill. The wind
wailed around the house mournfully, and as it drew towards midnight,
continued to rise still higher. The clock struck twelve.

There was an uneasy movement of the invalid tossing restlessly. Once she
made an effort to raise herself, and the thin hands wandered caressingly
over the bright hair of the young girl who slumbered peacefully beside
her.

"Poor darling," she said, "you are heavily burdened, but it will not be
for long. I feel the hour approaching."

A cold moisture settled upon her forehead, her breath came in labored
gasps.

"Mother," wailed Clemence, now fully aroused, kneeling beside her, and
chafing the cold hands. "Mother, speak to me?"

There was no response. The girl was alone with her dead.

"I declare, I am nearly distracted myself," said Mrs. Mann to Alicia
Linden some weeks after. "It would melt the heart of a stone to hear
that poor dear crying out in her delirium, 'what shall I do to obtain
this or that for the poor suffering mother?' That's always