he turned a last look upon his mother. She saw that his eyes were filled with tears. A moment more, and he was gone. Little Emma had stood looking wonderingly on while this scene was passing. Turning to her mother with a serious face, as the door closed upon Henry, she said-- "Brother gone, mamma? "Yes, dear! Brother is gone," sobbed the mother, taking the last child that remained to her, and hugging it passionately to her bosom. It was a long time before she could resume her work, and then so deep was her feeling of desolation, that she could not keep back from her eyelids the blinding tear-drops. CHAPTER V. PERKINS' NARRATIVE. THE efforts made by Perkins to find the residence of the stranger proved unavailing. Half suspecting that Michael had deceived him, he returned to the shop of Mr. Berlaps, and asked the direction anew. It was repeated precisely as at first given. "But I have been there." "Well, wasn't she at that number?" "No." "I don't know any thing about her, then. It often happens that these sewing girls deceive us as to their whereabouts?" Perkins turned away disappointed, but with his interest in the stranger more than ever excited. "Who and what can she be? and why do I feel so deep an interest in a perfect stranger, who cannot possibly be any thing to me?" were involuntary questions which the young man endeavored, but in vain, to answer. That night, as he sat alone in his room, his friend Milford came in