“Poor little creature,” thought she, “I suppose it is a long time since she has had a good dinner.”

Then the thought struck her:  “Here I am alone to eat all this.  There is plenty enough for half a dozen.  How much these poor people would relish it.”

By this time the table was arranged.

“Sir,” said she, turning to the traveller, “you look as if you were hungry as well as cold.  If you and your little daughter would like to sit up, I should be happy to have you.”

“Thank you, madam,” was the grateful reply.  “We are hungry, and shall be much indebted to your kindness.”

It was rather a novel situation for Miss Hetty, sitting at the head of the table, dispensing food to others beside herself.  There was something rather agreeable about it.

“Will you have some of the dressing, little girl—­I have to call you that, for I don’t know your name,” she added, in an inquiring tone.

“Her name is Henrietta, but I generally call her Hetty,” said the traveller.

“What!” said Miss Hetty, dropping the spoon in surprise.

“She was named after a very dear friend of mine,” said he, sighing.

“May I ask,” said Miss Hetty, with excusable curiosity, “what was the name of this friend.  I begin to feel quite an interest in your little girl,” she added, half apologetically.

“Her name was Henrietta Henderson,” said the stranger.

“Why, that is my name,” ejaculated Miss Hetty.

“And she was named after you,” said the stranger, composedly.

“Why, who in the world are you?” she asked, her heart beginning to beat unwontedly fast.

“Then you don’t remember me?” said he, rising, and looking steadily at Miss Hetty.  “Yet you knew me well in bygone days—­none better.  At one time it was thought you would have joined your destiny to mine—­”

“Nick Anderson!” said Miss Hetty, rising in confusion.

“You are right.  You rejected me, because you did not feel secure of my principles.  The next day, in despair at your refusal, I left the house, and, ere forty-eight hours had passed, was on my way to India.  I had not formed the design of going to India in particular, but in my then state of mind I cared not whither I went.  One resolution I formed, that I would prove by my conduct that your apprehensions were ill-founded.  I got into a profitable business.  In time I married—­not that I had forgotten you, but that I was solitary and needed companionship.  I had ceased to hope for yours.  By-and-by a daughter was born.  True to my old love, I named her Hetty, and pleased myself with the thought that she bore some resemblance to you.  Since then, my wife has died, misfortunes have come upon me, and I found myself deprived of all my property.  Then came yearnings for my native soil.  I have returned, as you see, not as I departed, but poor and careworn.”

While Nicholas was speaking, Miss Hetty’s mind was filled with conflicting emotions.  At length, extending her hand frankly, she said: