tear had the little maiden shed
over her stock of valuables. There was the figure of the Samuel, Uncle
True's first gift, defaced by time and accident. There, too, were his
pipes, dark with smoke and age; but as she thought what comfort they had
been to him, she felt them a consolation to her. She had also his
lantern, for she had not forgotten its pleasant light, the first that
ever fell upon the darkness of her life; also his fur cap, beneath which
she had often seen the kindly smile, and could hardly realise that there
was not one for her still hidden beneath its crown.

All these things, excepting the lantern and cap, Gertrude had left upon
the mantel-piece; and on entering the room, her eye sought her
treasures. They were gone. The mantel-piece was empty. She ran towards
the corner for the old box. It was gone. To rush after the housemaid and
question her was but the work of an instant.

Bridget was a new-comer, a stupid specimen, but Gertrude obtained from
her all the information she needed. The image, the pipes, and the
lantern were thrown among a heap of broken glass and crockery, and
smashed to atoms. The cap, said to be moth-eaten, and the other articles
had been cast into the fire at Mrs. Ellis's orders. Gertrude allowed
Bridget to depart, unaware of the greatness of her loss; then, shutting
the door, she wept.

She rose from the bed suddenly, and started for the door; then, some new
thought seeming to check her, she returned again to the bedside, and,
with a loud sob, fell upon her knees, and buried her face in her hands.
Once or twice she lifted her head, and seemed on the point of rising and
going to face her enemy; but each time something came across her mind
and detained her. It was not fear; oh, no! Gertrude was not afraid of
anybody. It must have been some stronger motive than that. Whatever it
might be, it was something that had a soothing influence, for, after
every fresh struggle, she grew calmer, and rising, seated herself in a
chair by the window, leaned her head on her hand, and looked out. The
shower was over, and the smiles of the refreshed earth were reflected in
a glowing rainbow. A little bird came and perched on a branch of a tree
close to the window, and shouted forth a _Te Deum_. A Persian
lilac-bush, in full bloom, sent up a delicious fragrance. A wonderful
calm stole into Gertrude's heart, and she felt "the grace that brings
peace succeed to the passions that produce trouble." She had