the light, which found its way in dimly
through the narrow windows, I could not
instantly recognise the features.

'You do not remember me, sir?' said the
same low, mournful voice. 'I am--I WAS
--Ellen Heathcote.'

'I do remember you, my poor child,'
said I, taking her hand; 'I do remember
you very well. Speak to me frankly--
speak to me as a friend. Whatever I can
do or say for you, is yours already; only
speak.'

'You were always very kind, sir, to
those--to those that WANTED kindness.'

The tears were almost overflowing, but
she checked them; and as if an accession
of fortitude had followed the momentary
weakness, she continued, in a subdued but
firm tone, to tell me briefly the
circumstances of her marriage with O'Mara.
When she had concluded the recital,
she paused for a moment; and I asked
again:

'Can I aid you in any way--by advice
or otherwise?'