that you were connected with the panorama, I attended the exhibition, that I might observe you more closely.  There you were arrested on the charge of murdering Mr. Minford—­of which, I again say, I always believed that you were totally innocent.  You may remember that a woman fainted away.  I was she.  The sudden recollection of those two names—­Wilkeson and Minford—­in such a connection, was too much even for my nerves.  I read the trial with fearful interest, and rejoiced in your release from the accusation.  Providence at last seemed to point out the way to make all the reparation for my crime.  I should have done it immediately after your acquittal, had I not seen by the papers that a wealthy lady—­Mrs. Crull—­had given your niece a home in her family.  I postponed this act of justice from one week to another, until my failing health warned me that it could not be put off with safety longer.  I thank Heaven that I have had strength and resolution to do it at last.”

“This act of atonement, madam,” said Marcus, “entitles you to my respect and sympathy.  If you ever need a friend, I trust you will do me the favor of calling on me.”

“I thank you,” she replied; “but I have means enough to support me for the remainder of my days, which are numbered.  The family in which I live, little knowing my true history, are very kind to me.”

The protracted conversation had not been closed too soon.  A violent cough seized upon the poor woman’s frame, and shook it like a leaf.  When it had ceased, Marcus observed that her lips were streaked with blood.

He begged to send for a doctor, but she would not have one, and rose to take her leave.

Marcus insisted, however, upon ordering a carriage for her conveyance to the New Jersey Railroad Depot, and she at length consented to receive that kindness from him.

To the driver he whispered words of caution, and instructed him to take the lady to a physician, in case she was ill on the journey; and, if so, to report, immediately thereafter, to him.  He then shook her hand frankly, and begged her again to remember that he should always be her friend.

She smiled sadly, as she replied:  “Again and again I thank you, sir; but it is useless to accept your kind offers, for we are meeting for the last time.”

The carriage was driven slowly away.

The poor woman’s word’s were true; and Marcus never saw her more.

CHAPTER III

UNCLE AND NIECE.

Marcus Wilkeson had seen Pet but twice since the inquest—­once in Mrs. Crull’s carriage, and once afoot, on the opposite side of the street.  He was delicately conscious that she regarded him with distrust or aversion; and, raising his hat politely to her, bowed, and passed on.  He had expressly enjoined upon Tiffles and Overtop, in the communications which they had with her relative to the “Cosmopolitan Window Fastener,” not to mention his name.  He shrank from appearing to force himself on her notice.