* * * * *

One morning, not long after, Malcom brought a handful of letters from
the banker's, among which several fell to Barbara and Bettina.

After opening two or three of his own, Mr. Sumner looked up and said:--

"I have here a letter dictated by Howard's grandmother. It contains only
a few words, which were written evidently by some friend, who adds that
the poor old lady is greatly prostrated, and it is feared will never
recover from the shock of his death."

"Poor woman! I wish it might have come less suddenly to her," replied
Mrs. Douglas, in a sympathetic voice.

After a little silence, during which all were busy with their letters,
a low cry burst from Barbara's lips.

Startled, all looked up to find her, pale as death, staring at a sheet
clutched in her hand, while Bettina had sunk on her knees with her arms
about her sister's waist.

"What is it? oh! what is it?" cried they.

Barbara found just voice enough to say: "No bad news from home," and
then appealingly held her letter toward Mr. Sumner.

"Shall I read it?" and as she bowed assent, he hastily scanned the
contents.