She again put on her jacket and hat, and drew on her gloves, preparatory to going forth to breast the storm and biting cold once more.
"I cannot bear to have you go out again," said her mother, in an anxious tone.
"I do not mind it in the least, mamma, dear," Edith brightly responded, "if I can only make you comfortable over Sunday. Next week I am to go again to Mr. Bryant, who thinks he can give me work permanently. You should see him, mamma," she went on, flushing again and turning slightly away from the eyes regarding her so curiously; "he is so handsome, so courteous, and so very kind. Ah! I begin to have courage once more," she concluded, with a little silvery laugh; then went out, shutting the door softly behind her.
Half an hour later she returned with her arms full of packages, and followed by a man bearing a generous basketful of coal and kindlings.
Her face was glowing, her eyes sparkling, and she was a bewildering vision of beauty and happiness.
"The money wasn't bad, after all mamma," she said, when the man had departed; "they didn't make the slightest objection to taking it at the grocery. I believe you were right, and that the pawnbroker did not want to give up the watch, so took that way to get rid of me. But I will have it next week, and I shall have a policeman to go with me to get it."
"Did you tell the grocer anything about the trouble you have had?" the invalid inquired.
"No, mamma; I simply offered the coin in payment for what I bought, and he took it without a word," Edith replied, but flushing slightly, for she felt a trifle guilty about passing the money after what had occurred.
"I almost wish you had," said her mother.
"I thought I would, at first, but—I knew we must have something to eat, and fuel to keep us warm between now and Monday, and so I allowed the grocer to take it upon his own responsibility," the young girl responded, with a desperate little glitter in her lovely eyes.
Her companion made no reply, although there was a shade of anxiety upon her wan face.
Edith, removing her things, bustled about, and soon had a cheerful fire and an appetizing meal prepared.
Her spirits appeared to rise with the temperature of the room, and she chatted cheerfully while about her work, telling a number of interesting incidents that had occurred in connection with her employment during the week.
"Now come, mamma," she remarked, at length; "let me help you into your chair and wheel you up to the table, for supper is ready, and I am sure you will enjoy these delicious oysters, which I have cooked as you like them best."
Mother and daughter were chatting pleasantly, enjoying their meal, when the door of their room was thrown rudely open and two men strode into their presence.
Edith started to her feet in mingled indignation and alarm, then grew deadly pale when she observed that one of the intruders was an officer, and the other the grocer of whom she had made her recent purchases.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she demanded, trying in vain to keep her tones steady and her heart from sinking with a terrible dread.
"There! Mr. Officer; that is the girl who passed the counterfeit money at my store," the grocer exclaimed, his face crimson with anger.
Edith uttered a smothered cry of anguish, then sank weakly back into her chair, as the man went forward to her side, laid his hand upon her shoulder, and remarked:
"You are my prisoner, miss."
CHAPTER II.
A STANCH FRIEND MAKES A VAIN APPEAL.
Beautiful Edith Allandale and her gentle, refined mother had been suddenly hurled from affluence down into the very depths of poverty.
Only two years previous to the opening of our story the world had been as bright to them as to any of the petted favorites of fortune who dwell in the luxurious palaces on Fifth avenue.
Albert Allandale had been a wealthy broker in Wall street; for years Fortune had showered her favors upon him, and everything he had touched seemed literally to turn to gold in his grasp.
His family consisted of his wife, his beautiful daughter, and two bright sons, ten and twelve years of age, upon whom the dearest hopes of his life had centered.
But like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, an illness of less than a week had deprived him of both of his sons.
Diphtheria, that fell destroyer, laid its relentless hand upon them, and they had died upon the same day, within a few hours of each other.
The heart-broken father was a changed man from the moment, when, sitting in speechless agony beside these idolized boys, he watched their young lives go out, and felt that the future held nothing to tempt him to live on.
His mind appeared to be impaired by this crushing blow; he could neither eat nor sleep; his business was neglected, and, day by day, he failed, until, in less than six months from the time that death had so robbed him, he had followed his boys, leaving his wife and lovely daughter to struggle as best they could with poverty; for their great wealth had melted like snow beneath the blazing sun when Mr. Allandale lost his interest in the affairs of the world.
Keenly sensitive, and no less proud—crushed by their many sorrows, the bereaved wife and daughter hid themselves and their grief from every one, in a remote corner of the great city. But misfortune followed misfortune—Mrs. Allandale having become a confirmed invalid—until they were reduced to the straits described at the opening of our story.
The week preceding they had spent their last dollar—obtained by pawning one after another of their old-time treasures—and Edith insisted upon seeking employment.
She had seen an advertisement for a copyist in one of the daily papers, and, upon answering it in person, succeeded in obtaining the situation with the young lawyer already mentioned.
Every day spent in her presence only served to make him admire her the more; and, before the week was out, he had altogether lost his heart to her.
When Saturday evening arrived, he paid her with the golden coin which was destined to bring fresh sorrow upon her, and she went out from his presence with a strange feeling of pride and independence over the knowledge that she had earned it with her own hands, and henceforth would be able to provide for her own and her mother's comfort.
But Royal Bryant had been conscience-smitten when he saw her beautiful face light up with mingled pride and pleasure as he laid that tiny piece of gold in her palm.
He would gladly have doubled the amount; but five dollars had been the sum agreed upon for that first week's work, and he feared that he would wound her pride by offering her a gratuity.
So he had told her that she would be worth more to him the next week, and that he would continue to increase her wages in proportion as she acquired speed and proficiency in her work.
Thus she had started forth, that dreary Saturday night, with a comparatively light heart, to redeem her watch, before going home to tell her mother her good news.
But, alas! how disastrously the day had closed!
"Come, miss," impatiently remarked the officer, as she sat with bowed head, her face covered with her hands, "get on your things! I've no time to be fooling away, and must run you into camp before it gets any later."
"Oh,