that nobody knows where I came from. Oh, mother, I can't stand it--I
simply cannot. I wanted him to know, and yet when he told me he knew,
it nearly killed me."

Mrs. Floyd turned pale. "There must be some mistake," she said; "no
one here knows it--and only one or two up in Tennessee."

"There is no mistake," sighed 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