his
hands. "You are my son now."

"And did you know I was Colonel Montague's son before?" asked Robert.

"I knew it before I was married to him," she replied. "My husband always
reproached himself--and now more than ever--because he concealed his
first marriage from his father; but my brother and I always thought it
right for him to do so."

"I know it was wrong," added the colonel, bitterly.

"Undoubtedly it was wrong in the abstract, but it was the least of two
evils," said Mr. Barkesdale.

"Now you are my brother, I shall kiss you again," was the greeting of
Grace, as she suited the action to the word.

The rest of the day was spent in talking over the events of the past,
and Robert Montague was duly installed as a member of the household. The
funeral took place the next day, and hundreds of people stared at the
boy who rode with the other members of the family in the first
carriage, and wondered why he was there. In a few days the strange story
was fully circulated both in Belfast and in Camden.

On the day after the funeral Robert returned to his former home with
Mrs. Taylor. He was greeted by his friends with a deference which made
him feel very awkward; and when he went on board of the Skylark, Monkey
hardly dared to speak to him. But he soon convinced all that his altered
fortunes had not changed his heart. He was more amazed himself than
other people were to find himself the son of one of the richest and most
distinguished men in the state. He returned to his new home in the
Skylark on the same day, and arrived soon enough to give Grace a sail in
the yacht before dark.

In due time Robert attended the trial of Captain Chinks, who pleaded
guilty, and was sentenced to a year's imprisonment for opening the
letter and stealing the money. The yacht and the liquor were condemned
and sold. The captain was fined a thousand dollars; and it was said that
he got off easy because he pleaded guilty. Colonel Montague bought the
Skylark when she was sold, with his son's share of "the moiety of the
penalty and forfeiture." With his father as a passenger, Robert sailed
the yacht home.

The Penobscot was got off by the sailing-master and crew at the next
tide after she went on the ledge. Buoyed up with casks she was towed to
Belfast, where she was put on the ways, and made as good as new.

"I thought your sailing-master was rather reckless that night," said
Robert, one day, as they passed the Penobscot on the ways,