“And Mary Graham, is it indeed possible that I see you thus!”—­(kissing her)” And Anna—­is that pale, worn face, the face of my old friend and companion, Anna Graham?” And she bent down over the bed and kissed the lips and cheek of the sick girl, tenderly, while her eyes grew dim with tears.  “How changed in a few short years!” she added, as she took a proffered chair.  “Who could have dreamed, seven years ago, that we should ever meet thus!”

In a short time, as the first shock and surprise of meeting passed off, Mary Williams, or rather Mrs. Harwood, entered into a serious conversation with Mrs. Graham, and her daughters, in reference to the past, the present, and the future.  After learning all that she could of their history since their father’s failure, which was detailed without disguise by Mary—­Anna was too feeble to converse—­Mrs. Harwood turned to Mary and asked suddenly—­

“Do you know this cape, Mary?” alluding to one she had on.

“O, yes—­very well.”

“You worked it, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“For what price?”

“Two dollars.”

“Is it possible!  I bought it of Mrs.—­for French, and paid her for it fifteen dollars.”

“Fifteen dollars!” ejaculated Mary, in surprise.  “How shamefully that woman has imposed upon me!  During the last two years, I have worked at least one hundred capes for her, each of which brought me in only two dollars.  No doubt she has regularly sold them for French goods, at from ten to fifteen dollars apiece.”

“No doubt of it.  I, myself, have bought several from her during that time at high prices, all of which may have been worked by you.  I saw you in her store a few days ago, but did not recognise you, although your appearance, as it did several times here before, attracted my attention.  I had my suspicions, after I had learned from Mrs.—­who you were, that you had wrought this cape, and from having overheard you ask her for an advance of six dollars, as the price of three capes, was pretty well satisfied that two dollars was all you received for it.  I at once determined to seek you out, and try to aid you in your severe struggle with the world.  It was only last evening that I learned from my brother where you lived—­and I also learned, what rejoiced my heart, that there was about occurring a favourable change in your circumstances.  If, however, your health should permit, and your inclination prompt you to do so, I will take care that you get a much better price for any capes that you may hereafter work.  They are richly worth ten and twelve dollars apiece, and at that price, I have no doubt but that I can get sales for many.”

“Bless you, Mary!  Bless you!” Anna said, smiling through gushing tears, as she rose up in the bed, and bent over towards her old friend and companion.  “Your words have fallen upon my heart like a healing balsam!”

Mrs. Harwood came forward, and received the head of Anna upon her bosom, while she drew an arm round her waist, and bent down and pressed her with tenderness and affection.