Rose uttered a faint cry. She had thought of her father, of Jules La
Touche, never once of him who stood before her.

"Doctor Frank!" she gasped; and then she was holding to a chair for
support, feeling the walls swimming around her.

Doctor Frank took her in his arms, and kissed her pale cheek as tenderly
and pityingly as her father might have done.

"My poor child! My poor little Rose! What a shadow you are! Don't cry
so--pray don't!"

She bowed her weary head against his shoulder, and broke out into
hysterical sobbing. It was so good to see that friendly familiar face
once more--she clung to him with a sense of unspeakable trust and
relief, and cried in the fullness of her heart.

He let her tears flow for awhile, sitting beside her, and stroking the
faded, disordered hair away from the wan, pale face.

"There! there!" he said, at last, "we have had tears enough now. Look up
and let me talk to you. What did you think when you received no answer
to your letter?"

"I thought you all very cruel. I thought I was forgotten."

"Of course you did; but you are not forgotten, and it is my fault that
you have had no letter. I wanted to surprise you; and I have brought a
letter from your father breathing nothing but love and forgiveness."

"Give it to me!" cried Rose, breathlessly; "give it to me!"

"Can't, unfortunately, yet awhile. I left it at my hotel. Don't look so
disappointed. I am going to take you there in half an hour. Hallo! Is
that the baby?"

Reginald Stanford, Junior, asleep in his crib, set up a sudden squall at
this moment.

Doctor Frank crossed the floor, and hoisted him up in a twinkling.

"Why, he's a splendid little fellow, Rose, and the very image of--What
do you call him?"

"Reginald," Rose said, in a very subdued tone.

"Well, Master Reginald, you and I are going to be good friends, aren't
we, and you're not going to cry?"

He hoisted him high in the air, and baby answered with a loud crow.

"That's right. Babies always take to me, Rose. You don't know how many
dozens I have nursed in my time. But you don't ask me any questions
about home. Aren't you curious to know how they all get on?"

"Papa is married, I suppose?" Rose said.

"Of course--last January. And Danton Hall was burnt down; and they have
built up another twice as big and three times as handsome. And Mr.
Richards--you remember the mysterious invalid, Rose?"

"Yes."

"Well, Mr. Richards turned out to be your brother