should be given to the main question concerning Dorry.

* * * * *

Twilight slowly faded, and the room grew darker as they sat there,
until at last they scarcely could see each other's faces. Then they
moved nearer to the open window, conversing in a low tone, as star after
star came softly into view.

Donald's large, wistful eyes sometimes turned to look toward the front
gate, through which Dorry had passed, though he gave close attention to
every word Mr. Reed uttered.

It was a strange story; but all its details need not be repeated here.
Suffice it to say, at last Donald learned his uncle's secret, and
understood the many unaccountable moods that so often had perplexed
Dorry and himself.

What wonder that Mr. George had been troubled, and had sometimes shown
signs of irritation! For nearly fifteen years he had suffered from
peculiar suspense and annoyance, because, while he believed Dorothy to
be his own niece, he could not ascertain the fact to his complete
satisfaction. To make matters worse, the young girl unconsciously
increased his perplexity by sometimes evincing traits which well might
be inherited from his brother Wolcott, and oftener in numberless little
ways so reminding him of his adopted sister Kate in her early girlhood,
that his doubts would gain new power to torment him.

All he had been able to find out definitely was that, in the autumn of
1859, in accordance with his instructions, Mrs. Wolcott Reed, his
brother's widow, with her twin babies, a boy and girl of six weeks, and
their nurse, had sailed from Europe, in company with Kate and her
husband, Henry Robertson, who had with them their own little daughter
Delia, a baby barely a week older than the twins.

When about seven days out, the steamer had been caught in a fog, and,
going too near the treacherous coast of Newfoundland, had in the night
suddenly encountered a sunken rock. The violence of the shock aroused
every one on board. There was a rush for the pumps, but they were of no
use; the vessel already had begun to sink. Then followed a terrible
scene. Men and women rushed wildly about, vainly calling for those
belonging to them. Parents and their children were separated in the
darkness--all, passengers and crew alike, too panic-stricken to act in
concert. In the distracting terror of the occasion, there was great
difficulty in lowering the steamer's boats--now their only possible hope
of rescue. These w