uture; not that
they saw the way more clearly before them, but heavenly confidence had
taken the place of human distrust.

It was, perhaps, eleven o'clock in the day--the doctor had been there,
and pronounced the condition of his patient favourable, but enjoined
quiet and prolonged rest from either bodily or mental exertion--and
the mind of Claire was beginning to run again in a slightly troubled
channel.

"Here is a letter for you," said his wife, coming into the room, after
a brief absence. "A young man just left it at the door."

Claire took the letter, wondering as he did so who it could be from.
On breaking the seal, and unfolding it, he was greatly surprised to
find within a check to his order for one hundred and fifty dollars,
signed Leonard Jasper; and still more surprised to read the
accompanying note, which was in these words:

"Enclosed you will find one hundred and fifty dollars, the sum due
you for Fanny Elder's maintenance during the past and current quarter.
When convenient, I should be glad to see you. Seeing that the child
has remained with you so long, I don't know that it will be advisable
to make a change now, although I had other views in regard to her.
However, when you call, we can settle matters in regard to her
definitively."

"Better to us than all our fears," murmured Claire, as he handed the
letter to his wife, who read it with a truly thankful heart.

"Our way is smooth once more," she said, smiling through outpressing
tears--"the mountain has become a level plain. All the dark clouds
have been swept from our sky, and the sun is shining even more
brightly than of old."

It was more than a week before Claire was sufficiently recovered to
go out and attend to business as usual. At the first opportunity,
he called upon Mr. Jasper, who received him with marked kindness of
manner.

"I do not, now," said the merchant, "entertain the same views in
regard to my ward that I did some time ago. Your opposition to
my wishes then, fretted me a good deal; and I made up my mind,
decisively, that so soon as she was twelve years of age, you must give
her up. It was from this feeling that I acted when I refused to pay
your last order. Since then, I have reflected a good deal on the
subject; and reflection has modified, considerably, my feelings. I
can understand how strong must be the attachment of both yourself and
wife, and how painful the thought of separation from a long-cherished
object of af