"Were you ever near Port Logan?"

"I once lived within a few miles of Port Logan."

"When?"

"Some time since." With those words Mercy Merrick shrank back
into her corner and changed the subject. "Your relatives in
England must be very anxious about you," she said.

Grace sighed. "I have no relatives in England. You can hardly
imagine a person more friendless than I am. We went away from
Canada, when my father's health failed, to try the climate of
Italy, by the doctor's advice. His death has left me not only
friendless but poor." She paused, and took a leather letter-case
from the pocket of the large gray cloak which the nurse had lent
to her. "My prospects in life," she resumed, "are all contained
in this little case. Here is the one treasure I contrived to
conceal when I was robbed of my other things."

Mercy could just see the letter-case as Grace held it up in the
deepening obscurity of the room. "Have you got money in it?" she
asked.

"No; only a few family papers, and a letter from my father,
introducing me to an elderly lady in England--a connection of his
by marriage, whom I have never seen. The lady has consented to
receive me as her companion and reader. If I don't return to
England soon, some other person may get the place."