e? I often think of the
little fawn, and mother's dying words. O, the terrible mystery! Will
it never be solved on earth?--The Lord's will be done!"

"I remember just how he looked the last time I saw him," said Uncle
Walter, wiping his eyes. "I fingered his crinkling curls, and
said--'What does Uncle Walter want of Clintie?' 'A kiss,' cried the
little beauty, and threw his soft arms around my old neck, opened hit
lips, like sweet-pea blossoms, and planted a rousing smack on my chin.
Then, I caught him in my arms, kissed his velvet cheeks, chanked his
fat neck, chuckled under his chin, and called him a bobolink; and he
made all ring again with his merry bobolink laugh. That was the last
time I saw him."

"He was a dear boy," sighed Fabens.

"Too dear, too dear to die as he did. O, Lord, continue thy comfort!"
sobbed Mrs. Fabens.

The conversation was then interrupted, for it was announced that the
couple were ready to appear for the ceremony as soon as the guests
could be called into the north room. The guests gathered in, and took
their seats, more than filling the room. Then entered the bridegroom,
leading as bright a blooming beauty of a bride, as your dainty eyes
would choose to see; and they seated themselves where nearly all the
company had the blessing of a view of their joyful looks. Uncle Walter
declared, that the sight was feast enough for him, and he should have
no appetite after that for supper. Colwell thought it was lighter and
more summer-like in the room than before.

Then, when every breath and pulse were so hushed, that nothing but
silence itself filled all ears,--Father Lovelight begged leave to
perform a ceremony before the marriage one. It would not be a great
interruption, and he hoped it might heighten, and not dampen their
joys. And leading in the stranger, he said, "Mr. and Mrs. Fabens, the
gentleman I hold by the hand, revealed to me a mystery last night,
which I am not unhappy now to disclose. Your prayers are answered.
Your joy is complete. Receive your lost son. Clinton returns in joy
to your arms!"

"Has heaven been opened so soon?" cried Fabens, standing like a statue.

"It cannot be Clinton, but, only my dream of him!" cried Mrs. Fabens,
clasping her hands, and looking amazed.

"Believe me, madam, it is your own dear son," said Father Lovelight.

"Father!" cried the stranger.

"Clinton!" cried Fabens, rushing to embrace him.

"My child! my dear, dear child!"