earls with
her tresses, and brought the whole in a beautiful band over her forehead.
And she looked like a little queen with this coronal of jet and pearl
shading her brows.

Daisy next picked the jewel-case to pieces, and threw the minute shreds
into the street. This was scarcely done, when the door-bell rang
impatiently.

The girl peeped from the window.

The two men at the door-step were not to be mistaken. Daisy's fingers
trembled as she undid the fastenings of the door.

"We have orders to search this house, miss," said one of the officers,
touching the vizor of his cap respectfully.

Daisy choked down a sob, and led them with an unnatural calmness from room
to room.

Every place in the little house was investigated, but in vain; no necklace
was to be found. Yet twice the breath of one of the searchers fell on the
pearls in Daisy's hair. The two officers left the house in evident chagrin.

When they had gone, the girl sat on the stairs and sobbed.

Happily for her wishes, Mrs. Snarle had been absent during the search; and
thus far had been kept in ignorance of Mortimer's disgrace. But Daisy could
not hope to keep it a secret from her long, for they both would probably be
summoned as witnesses in open court. The thought of giving evidence against
Mortimer went through Daisy's heart like an intense pain. It terrified her,
and her warm little heart was floating on tears all day.

The cloud which had fallen on her seemed to have no silver lining; all was
cold, black and sunless. But there is no mortal wound to which some unseen
angel does not bring a balm--

"There are gains for all our losses!"

Daisy remembered Mortimer's words: _"Promise that you will not doubt me,
whatever may occur in connection with this necklace--that you will love
me, though I may be unable to explain condemning circumstances, or dispel
the doubts of others_"--and the words came to her freighted with such hope
and tenderness, that her sleep that night was deep and refreshing. Doubt
had folded its wings in the heart of Daisy Snarle.

XIII.

LUDWICK.--_Now here's a man half ruined by ill luck,
As true a man as breathes the summer air._

LAUNCELOT.--_Ill luck, erratic jade! but yesterday
She might have made him king!_

OLD PLAY.

XIII.

IN THE TOMBS.

_The Author's Summer Residence--The Egyptian Prison--Without and
Within--A Picture--Sunshine in Shad