"All the world was hard and cruel and cold to me--the child never was; all the world disappointed me--the child never did.

My heart soul clung to her.

And then, sir, when she was able to run about, a pretty, graceful, loving child, the very joy of my heart and sunshine of my life, the doctor died, and I was left alone with her." She paused for some few minutes, her whole frame shaken with sobs.

The earl, bending down, spoke kindly to her.
"I am quite sure," he said, "that if you erred it has been through love for my child.

Tell me all--have no fear." "I was in the house, sir," she continued, "when the poor doctor was carried home dead--in his sitting-room with my--with little Madaline--and when I saw the confusion that followed upon his death, I thought of the papers in the oaken box; and, without saying a word to any one, I took it and hid it under my shawl." "But, tell me," said the earl, kindly, "why did you do that ?" "I can hardly remember now," she replied--"it is so long since.