ow voice, as
she saw Ruth come to the door, "that I am at all worried. She must not
have a threat like that on her mind."

The maid nodded, then turned toward the door where Ruth stood.

"Well, mother, good-by," the latter exclaimed with a laugh. "You can
open all the rest of the letters, and if you come across any more like
that last one, please keep them. I think I'll begin a collection."

Mrs. Morton forced herself to join in the girl's laughter.

"There won't be any more, dear," she said, kissing the girl fondly.
"Don't bother your head about such things. They're not worth it. And
come home as soon as you get through."

"All right, mother. We're going to the theater to-night, aren't we?
Don't forget to get the tickets." With a smile she left the room, and a
few moments later Mrs. Morton heard the rumble of the descending
elevator.

She sat in silence for a long time, thinking, a great fear clutching at
her heart. Her life, she reflected, had held, until recently, but little
of happiness. The long, weary days of poverty, when her husband,
incapacitated by a paralytic stroke, had seen his savings slowly dwindle
away; the death of her son, and then that of Mr. Morton himself passed
before her mental vision. Only Ruth had been left to her, and in the
girl's happiness and success lay Mrs. Morton's whole life and being.
Now, that things had at last taken a turn, and the future seemed clear
and assured ahead of her, was some dreadful tragedy to change all her
joy to sorrow? She turned to the pile of still unopened letters with a
sigh, afraid, almost to proceed with the task of reading them. Yet, an
hour later, when they had all been disposed of without further threats
against Ruth having been discovered, she breathed more easily. Perhaps,
after all, the horrible letter was merely a silly joke. She took it out
and examined it again with the greatest care, but no clue to the
identity of the writer rewarded her scrutiny. The message remained
clear, terrible, full of sinister meaning. "_Within thirty days it shall
be destroyed, and you will be hideous!_" The grinning death's head seal
stared up at her, fascinatingly horrible. Mrs. Morton quickly placed the
letter in her bosom.

Rising, she left the room, and proceeded to that occupied by Ruth. It
pleased her, notwithstanding the servants, to take care of it herself.
Mrs. Morton was passionately devoted to her beautiful daughter. In her,
the sun rose and set.

She gla