“Three years ago,” replied Mrs. Gaston, “we removed to this city.  My husband entered into business, and was unsuccessful.  He lost every thing, and about a year ago died, leaving me destitute.  I have struggled on, since then, the best I could, but to little purpose.  The pittance I have been able to earn at the miserable prices we are paid by the tailors has scarcely sufficed to keep my children from starving.  But one of them”—­and the mother’s voice trembled—­“my sweet Ella! was not permitted to remain with me, when I could no longer provide things comfortable for my little ones.  A few short weeks ago, she was taken away to a better world.  It was a hard trial, but I would not have her back again.  And Henry, the dear boy, you remember—­I have been forced to let him go from my side out into the world.  I have neither seen nor heard from him since I parted with him.  Emma alone remains.”

Mrs. Gaston’s feelings so overcame her at this relation, that she wept and sobbed for some time.

“But, my dear Eugenia!—­my child that I loved so tenderly, and have so long mourned as lost,” she said, at length, drawing her arm affectionately around Miss Ballantine, “in better and happier times, we made one household for more than five pleasant years.  Let us not be separated now, when there are clouds over our heads and sorrow on our paths.  Together we shall be able to bear up better and longer than when separated.  I have a room, into which I moved a week since, that is pleasanter than this.  One room, one bed, one fire, and one light, will do for two as well as one.  We shall be better able to contend with our lot together.  Will you come with me, Eugenia?”

“Will I not, Mrs. Gaston?  Oh, to be once more with you!  To have one who can love me as you will love me!  One to whom I can unburden my heart—­Oh, I shall be too happy!”

And the poor creature hung upon the neck of her maternal friend, and wept aloud.

“Then come at once,” said Mrs. Gaston.  “You have nothing to keep you here?”

“No, nothing,” replied Eugenia.

“I will get some one to take your trunk.”  And Mrs. Gaston turned away and left the room.  In a little while, she came back with a man, who removed the trunk to her humble dwelling-place.  Thence we will follow them.

“And now, my dear Eugenia,” said Mrs. Gaston, after they had become settled down, and their minds had assumed a more even flow, “clear up to me this strange mystery.  Why are you here, and in this destitute condition?  How did you escape death?  Tell me all, or I shall still think myself only in the bewildering mazes of a dream.”

CHAPTER X.

Lizzy Glenn’s narrative to Mrs. Gaston.

Without venturing the remotest allusion to her parting with her lover, Miss Ballantine commenced her narrative by saying—­