"'We are so poor, you should have chosen the money, Ida,' she sobbed. 'Such a great gift is offered you but once in a life-time!'

"'But what does Mrs. May want you to do for her, Ida? Are you to be her maid?'

"How he loves me!" she murmured, a pink flush stealing into the dimpled cheeks. "What a happy girl I ought to be that my lover loves me so well!"

The waiter had gone back to attend to his duty. She saw that she was alone, and with a quick action she raised the envelope to her lips with her little white hands and kissed it—ay, kissed passionately the sword which was to slay her the next moment.

Seating herself in a cozy arm-chair close by the open window, Ida May opened the letter which was to be her death-warrant, and read as follows:

    "Ida, I suppose the contents of this note will give you something of a shock; but it is best to know the truth now than later on. I shall come to the point at once, that you may not be kept in suspense.


How weird the place looked, how gaunt and bare the great oak-trees looked, looming up darkly against the moonlit sky! The dead leaves rustled across her path as she crept around to the rear door.

She looked up at her mother's window, and another great chill crept over her. All was dark there. It had always been her mother's custom to place her lamp on the broad window-sill at night. Many a time it had been her beacon-light in cutting across lots from the station on evenings when she had been detained by her work. How strange it was that the light was not in the window to-night!

"Mother is not expecting me to-night," she said to herself, "that is the reason it is not there."


"Go!" she repeated, threateningly, "and do not dare to ever darken my door again!"

"Will you tell me where you have buried my poor mother?" moaned Ida May, with bitter anguish.

"In the lot where the poor of the village are put," she answered, unfeelingly. "We had to have a mark put over her. You can easily find it. It's to the left-hand corner, the last one on the row. It would be better for you, you shameless girl, if you were lying beside her rather than sink to the lowest depths of the road you are traveling. Go—go at once!"
Few passengers turned to look at the little figure that entered the car at the way-side station at so , and Ida May cowered quickly down into the first seat. The clothes under the long, dark cloak were saturated, but no one could see that, nor notice how damp and matted were the curling rings of dark hair which the hood of the cloak but half concealed. The hours crept on as the express whirled over the rails; but Ida May paid no heed to time.

But hunger at last began to tell upon her, and she[48] eagerly hailed a boy who passed through the train with a basket of sandwiches on his arm.

She looked at the coins she still held loosely in her hand, and found to her dismay that, with the exception of two pieces of silver, she held a handful of gold dollars .

"I can understand the situation perfectly," he answered in a low voice, "and I can pity you. Although not quite alone in the world myself, I am almost as badly off. But to return to yourself: I may be able[50] to serve you. What kind of employment were you intending to search for? In some store, or dress-making or millinery establishment?" he queried
She looked blankly up into his fair, handsome, earnest face.

"I do not know how to do anything of that kind," she answered, simply. "I thought perhaps I might find employment in some telegraph office."