upon the ring in her work-basket. "These trunks," she murmured to
herself, as she glanced around the room preparatory to leaving it,
"will descend to my sister, or go to Europe, or, maybe, will be
destroyed. I shall never use their contents. Dear Aunt Barbara's
careful packing was all to no purpose, had she only known it. Kind
Aunt Barbara! Now, one thing more remains to be done. I must have my
mother's miniature before I quit my father's house, perhaps forever.
Aunt Barbara has secured the key of the cabinet for me, and it lies
secreted in one of the drawers. Yes, Rebecca has kept it from me for
nearly five years. How I burn with anger yet, to think of the cruel
lie that took from me the only gift I ever valued in my life! That
perfidious bosom shall never feel the pressure of that precious,
jewelled face again. No, in heaven's name, I will not leave without
it!"

"Hush! the citadel clock strikes the quarter to twelve! Dear old
room! Chair, bed, books, pictures-all, farewell!"

The house below was silent. The lights had been darkened for an
hour. With stealthy step along the upper hall, and silent footfall
on the stairway, the cloaked and hooded figure of Leah approached
the sleeping apartment of her father and his wife. The sound of
heavy breathing betokened heavy slumber, as she silently turned the
door-knob and stood within the chamber. Reassured by this sound, she
glided toward the cabinet, and noiselessly adjusting the key, turned
it gently in the lock. The white, delicate finger stole softly about
the first smoothly polished drawer, to find it empty. Then one and
another underwent, in quick succession, the same noiseless
inspection, till the fourth and last drawer was reached; and that
one yielded up the coveted treasure. Hastily placing it in her