a pocket in the bosom," she
pursues. The old man, with an expression of surprise, takes the letter
and prepares to read it. He pauses. "Did it come from the dress I
discovered in the old chest?" he inquires, adjusting his spectacles.
Maria says it did. She has no doubt it might have relieved her
suffering, if it had been found before she died. "But, father, was there
not to you something strange, something mysterious about the manner she
pursued her search for this old dress? You remember how she used to
insist that it contained something that might be a fortune to her in her
distress, and how there was a history connected with it that would not
reflect much credit on a lady in high life!"

The old man interrupts by saying he well remembers it; remembers how he
thought she was a maniac to set so much value on the old dress, and make
so many sighs when it could not be found. "It always occurred to me
there was something more than the dress that made her take on so," the
old man concludes, returning the letter to Maria, with a request that
she will read it. Maria resumes her seat, the old man draws a chair to
the table, and with his face supported in his left hand listens
attentively as she reads:

"WASHINGTON SQUARE, NEW YORK,
May 14, 18--

"I am glad to hear from Mr. Sildon that the child does well. Poor little
thing, it gives me so many unhappy thoughts when I think of it; but I
know you are a good woman, Mrs. Munday, and will watch her with the care
of a mother. She was left at our door one night, and as people are
always too ready to give currency to scandal, my brother and I thought
that it would not be prudent to adopt it at once, more especially as I
have been ill for the last few months, and have any quantity of enemies.
I am going to close my house, now that my deceased husband's estate is
settled, and spend a few years in Europe. Mr. Thomas Sildon is well
provided with funds for the care of the child during my absence, and
will pay you a hundred dollars every quarter. Let no one see this
letter, not even your husband. And when I return I will give you an
extra remuneration, and adopt the child as my own. Mr. Sildon will tell
you where to find me when I return."

Your friend,
"C.A.M."

"There, father," says Maria, "there is something more than we know
about, connected with this letter. One thing always discovers
another--don't you think it may have something to do with that lady who
has two o