For many hours they wandered about from house to house, Miriam having
armed herself with a large sum of money, hoping by acts of charity to
gain access into the poor dwellings.

They were almost despairing of finding a clew to the whereabouts of
the fisherman, when three little children, poor and hungry-looking,
playing outside a tiny hut, attracted Miriam's attention.

Stooping, she spoke gently to the little things, and won from them the
tale of their excessive poverty, which she promised to relieve if they
would take her to their mother.

This they willingly did, and Miriam found a pale, delicate-looking
woman, who, notwithstanding the raggedness of her dress, still bore
traces of having been at one time different to a poor fisherman's
wife.

Encouraged by the soft tones of her mysterious visitor, the woman
gradually unburdened her troubled heart by telling her the history of
her wretched life; how she had been doomed to follow her husband, an
Indian chief, to death; but, loving life better, she escaped with her
little children, but would have died of hunger on the seashore if
Jarima, her second husband, had not rescued her and offered her his
name and home.

"He is very good to me and my children; the past seems but a dream
now. If only we had money, all would be well."

Miriam, with a few gentle, consoling words, slipped a few bright coins