would direct the packet the next day, and tell me what to do with it. I slept by her; but, dear me! I had taken some hot gin-and-water—for I was troubled with a cold stomach—and I slept sound and late, and when I waked she was dead and cold. Poor little Juliet! I never shall forget how she lay with her arms round her mother's neck till they sent a coffin from the almshouse; it seemed as if the child were glued there."
"Did you not open the packet, Paulina?"
"Yes; but no names were mentioned. Her letter was to her father, but it was only signed with initials."
"Were they M. B.?" eagerly asked Susan, as a faint hope dawned upon her.
"M. B.—B.—no, I am pretty sure it was not B.: it might have been B. L.; I think it was L."
"You have preserved the packet?"
"I did, carefully; but in our last move it was stolen or lost!"
CHAPTER XV.
THE RICH MAN'S CHARITIES.
"Many a house is full where the mind is unfurnished and the heart is empty; and no hovel of mere penury ought ever to be so sad as that house.— Dewry.
It was near ten o'clock when Henry Aikin, in pursuance of his benevolent designs for Paulina, rung at Morris Finley's door, and told the servant,
