WITH A WINE-GLASS. ST

me before: but the young forget. I was fool
enough to ask if she remembered her Irish
nurse; not she! and I told her a few things
I remembered — not many, I was so con-
fused—and at last I said, ‘Have you the
mark of two cherries on the instep of your
right foot —ripe, red cherries—if-so, you
were once Maud Langley, and your mother,
my own dear mistress, gave you to me when —

she was dying.’

She started, the color flush-
ing to her cheeks and the tears to her eyes ;
and she made me sit down, and sat down
beside me, and tould me her father had her
from a convent and charged her, if ever she
could make me out, to remember what I had
-been to her mother and her, and how sorry
he was we thrée was ever parted ; for that
terrible woman, after almost breaking his
heart, left him, and never was his wife,
for she had a husband before she saw him,

who never died at all, small blame to him.