since, put some papers in my hand, with a request that I would read
them. They contain a marriage settlement and other things of that sort,
which show I am mistress of more money than I should know what to do
with, if it were not for dear little Evert--but, with such a precious
being to love, one never can have too much of anything. With the papers
were many trinkets, which I suppose father never looked at. This
beautiful miniature was among the last; and I feel certain, from some
remarks I ventured to make, mother does not know of its existence."

As Maud spoke, she drew the original from her bosom, and placed it in
Robert Willoughby's hands. When this simple act was performed, her mind
seemed relieved; and she waited, with strong natural interest, to hear
Robert Willoughby's comments.

"This, then, Maud, was your _own_--your _real_ mother!" the
young man said, after studying the miniature, with a thoughtful
countenance, for near a minute. "It is _like_ her--like you."

"Like _her_, Bob?--How can you know anything or that?--I suppose
it to be my mother, because I think it like myself, and because it is
not easy to say who else it can be. But you cannot know anything of
this?"

"You are mistaken, Maud--I remember both your parents well--it could
not be otherwise, as they were the bosom friends of my own. You will
remember that I am now eight-and-twenty, and that I had seen seven of
these years when you were born. Was my first effort in arms never
spoken of in your presence?"

"Never--perhaps it was not a subject for me to hear, if it were in any