“I am but a weak woman, doctor, and you must bear with me,” said she, in a changed voice.  “I used to have fortitude; but I feel that I am breaking fast.  I am not what I was.”

The last two sentences were spoken in a tone so sad and mournful, that the doctor could scarcely keep back the tears.

“You have friends here, I suppose,” he remarked, “who will be with you on this afflicting occasion?”

“I have no friends,” she replied, in the same sad voice.  “I and my children are alone in this hard world.  Would to heaven we were all with Ella!” Her tears again gushed forth and flowed freely.

“Then I must send some one who will assist you in your present need,” said Dr. R—­; and turning away he left the room, and, getting into his chaise, rode off at a brisk pace.  In about a quarter of an hour, he returned with a woman who took charge of the body of the child, and performed for it the last sad offices that the dead require.

Upon close inquiry, he ascertained from Mrs. Gaston that she was in a state of extreme destitution; that so far from having the means to bury her dead child, she was nearly without food to give to her living ones.  To meet this pressing need, he went to a few benevolent friends, and procured money sufficient to inter the corpse, and about ten dollars over.  This he gave to her after the funeral, at which there were only three mourners, the mother and her two children.

CHAPTER IV.

Lizzy Glenn arouses the interest of A stranger.

Berlaps was leaning over his counter late in the afternoon of the second day from that on which the person calling herself Lizzy Glenn had applied for and obtained work, when a young man entered and asked for some article of dress.  While the tailor was still engaged in waiting upon him, the young woman came in, carrying a small bundle in her hand.  Her vail was drawn over her face as she entered; but was thrown partly aside as she retired to the back part of the store, where she stood awaiting the leisure of the man from whom she had obtained work.  As she passed him, the customer turned and looked at her earnestly for a moment or two, and then asked in a whisper—­

“Who is that?”

“Only one of our sewing-girls,” replied Berlaps, indifferently.

“What is her name?”

“I forget.  She’s a girl to whom we gave out work day before yesterday.”

This paused the man to look at her more attentively.  The young woman, becoming conscious that she was an object of close scrutiny by a stranger, turned partly away, so that her face could not be seen.

“There is something singularly familiar about her,” mused the young man as he left the store.  “Who can she be?  I have certainly seen her before.”

“Ah, good-afternoon, Perkins!” said a familiar voice, while a friendly hand was laid upon his arm.  “You seem to be in a browner mood than usual!”