ighed the girl. "He told me the other day that
he had relatives in Tennessee. Oh, mother, more people know it than
you think. I have always felt that they knew. So many have noticed
that you and I do not look alike."

Mrs. Floyd's eyes were moist and her face was wrung with sympathy. She
put her arms around the girl and drew her to her breast. "I ought
never to have told you," she said; "but the lawyers knew it, and when
your papa's estate was wound up it had to be told to a few. I thought
you would soon forget it, but you have never stopped thinking about it.
You are entirely too sensitive, too--"

"Mother, you don't know anything about it," said Harriet. "When you
told me I was not your child I actually prayed to die. It has been the
only real trouble I ever had. I never see poor, worthless people
without thinking that I may be closely related to them, and since Mr.
Westerfelt has been here and told me about his aristocratic relatives
and his old family, I have been more unhappy than ever. I was going to
tell him some day, but he saved me the trouble."

"I can't imagine how he knew it," gave in Mrs. Floyd, thoughtfully.
"Perhaps he has had some dealings with our lawyers, though they
promised not to speak of it. I thought when we moved down here among
strangers you'd quit troubling about that. You know you are as good as
anybody else, so what is the good of worrying? You make me very
unhappy, Harriet. I feel almost as if I did wrong to bring you up.
But you know I love you just the same as if you was my own child, don't
you?"

"Yes, and I love you as if you were my own mother. I love you more,
too, when I am in trouble, though I reckon I don't show it; but,
mother, I am dying to know something about my own flesh and blood. I'd
rather know that my blood was good than have all the wealth of the
earth. You have let enough out to show me that I must have had very,
very poor parents."

"I simply said that when they left you at my house you had on rather
cheap clothing, but you know that was just after the war, when nobody
could dress their children much."

"But they deserted me," said Harriet; "they could not have been very
honorable. I reckon Mr. Westerfelt knows all about it."

"Well, he won't think any the less of you if he does," said Mrs. Floyd.
"He looks like a born gentleman to me. You will never see a man like
him turning against a girl for something she can't help. You ought not
to say