girl; and it appeared to me that she hesitated whether to add anything more, and decided in the negative.

“Pray do not ask me my other name, — at least not yet, — if you will be so kind to a forlorn creature.”

Priscilla! — Priscilla! I repeated the name to myself three or four times; and in that little space, this quaint and prim cognomen had so amalgamated itself with my idea of the girl, that it seemed as if no other name could have adhered to her for a moment. Heretofore the poor thing had not shed any tears; but now that she found herself received, and at least temporarily established, the big drops began to ooze out from beneath her eyelids as if she were full of them. Perhaps it showed the iron substance of my heart, that I could not help smiling at