s all to bits an' hois' us
into de bery middle ob next week--if not farder?"

"It is strange indeed, Moses," said Nigel, who however added no
commentary, feeling indisposed to pursue the subject.

Seeing this, Moses turned to his master.

"Massa," he said. "You don' want nuffin' more to-night, I s'pose?"

"No, Moses, nothing."

"An' is you _quite_ easy in your mind?"

"Quite," replied the hermit with his peculiar little smile.

"Den it would be wuss dan stoopid for me to be _on_easy, so I'll bid ye
bof good-night, an' turn in."

In this truly trustful as well as philosophical state of mind, the negro
retired to his familiar couch in the inner cave, and went to sleep.

Nigel and the hermit sat up for some time longer.

"Van der Kemp," said the former, after a pause, "I--I trust you won't
think me actuated by impertinent curiosity if I venture to ask you about
--the--photograph that I think you----"

"My young friend!" interrupted the hermit, taking the case in question
from his breast pocket; "I should rather apologise to you for having
appeared to make any mystery of it--and yet," he added, pausing as he
was about to open the case, "I have not shown it to a living soul since
the day that--Well, well,--why should I hesitate? It is all I have
left of my dead wife and child."

He placed the case in the hands of Nigel, who almost sprang from his
seat with excitement as he beheld the countenance of a little child of
apparently three or four years of age, who so exactly resembled Kathy
Holbein--allowing of course for the difference of age--that he had now
no doubt whatever as to her being the hermit's lost daughter. He was on
the point of uttering her name, when uncertainty as to the effect the
sudden disclosure might have upon the father checked him.

"You seem surprised, my friend," said Van der Kemp gently.

"Most beautiful!" said Nigel, gazing intently at the portrait. "That
dear child's face seems so familiar to me that I could almost fancy I
had seen it."

He looked earnestly into his friend's face as he spoke, but the hermit
was quite unmoved, and there was not a shadow of change in the sad low
tone of his voice as he said--

"Yes, she was indeed beautiful, like her mother. As to your fancy about
having seen it--mankind is formed in groups and types. We see many faces
that resemble others."

The absent look that was so common to the solitary man here overspread
his massive features, and Nigel felt