down, and the sobs came thick and frequent.

"My darling, my darling!" exclaimed the mother; and they wept
together.

"Was I wicked to love him at the first," she asked that night.

"No, my child; you were not wicked at all. At least I think not."

"Then why--" Why was he sent away? It was on her tongue to ask
that question; but she paused and spared her mother. This was as
they were going to bed. The next morning Susan did not get up. She
was not ill, she said; but weak and weary. Would her mother let her
lie that day? And then Mrs. Bell went down alone to her room, and
sorrowed with all her heart for the sorrow of her child. Why, oh
why, had she driven away from her door-sill the love of an honest
man?

On the next morning Susan again did not get up;--nor did she hear,
or if she heard she did not recognise, the step of the postman who
brought a letter to the door. Early, before the widow's breakfast,
the postman came, and the letter which he brought was as follows:-


"MY DEAR MRS. BELL,

"I have now got a permanent situation on the Erie line, and the
salary is enough for myself and a wife. At least I think so, and I
hope you will too. I shall be down at Saratoga to-morrow evening,
and I hope neither Susan nor you will refuse to receive me.