ly
against the damp wall. The room, if we may call it one, was devoid of
furniture, with the exception of a low iron bedstead, whose straw-stuffed
mattress and ragged coverlid suggested anything but sleep. Daisy Snarle was
standing with downcast eyes near the door which a few minutes before had
closed on its creaking hinges, and outside of which the jailor stood
listening.

The long, dark lashes were resting on her cheek; the pearls of the
necklace, which gleamed here and there in the queenly braid, looked whiter
by contrast with Daisy's chestnut hair. In one hand she had gathered the
folds of her shawl, the other hung negligently at her side. From beneath
the skirt of her simple dress, peeped one of the loveliest feet ever seen,
and her whole attitude was unconsciously exquisite. She had just ceased
speaking, and the faintest possible tinge of crimson was on her cheeks.

"Daisy, you are one of God's good angels, or you would never have come to
me in this repulsive place."

Daisy's eyes were still bent on the floor.

"Speak to me again, Daisy," said Mortimer, taking her hand. "Your voice
gives me heart, and your words make me forget everything but you."

Daisy lifted her dreamy hands, and said, softly:--"They could not find it."

"Could not find what, Daisy?"

"The necklace," said Daisy, smiling.

"No," she continued, in a low, musical voice, "they searched in all the
rooms, in all the trunks--turned over your papers and mother's
work-basket--but they could not find it."

And Daisy smiled again.

"Where was it, Daisy?"

"Here!"

And Daisy, smiling all the while, lifted Mortimer's hand in hers, and
placed it on the braid of hair.

Mortimer started.

"O, Daisy! Daisy! why did you do that?"

The little foot tapped gently on the stone floor.

"Because," said Daisy, dropping her eyes, "because, when I read your note
yesterday, I doubted you for a moment: but when I looked at the portrait in
your room, I believed you; and I hid the necklace in my hair, and came to
ask your pardon."

"Let any misfortune come to me, darling!" said Mortimer, touched with this
ingenious act, "let come what will, I am strong! As sure as little Bell
looks down from Heaven, you do not wear a stolen necklace. How it came into
my hands I cannot tell, without wronging the dead. But, Daisy, it was
imprudent for you to run this risk."

"Oh, no; they hunted for something hidden, and could not see what was
before their eyes," replie