e those from whom she
had been so cruelly separated all these years, mingled with a fearful
apprehension lest this knowledge might have come too late, when those
whose affection she would claim, might have already passed beyond the
limits of finite, human love, into the love infinite and eternal. And
deep in her heart burned indignation, fierce and strong, against the
one who had wrought all this wretchedness,--carrying additional sorrow
to a home already bereaved, robbing her of the love that was
rightfully hers and of the dower of a happy childhood which could
never be restored,--all to gratify his cowardly revenge!

In the midst of these reflections, Lyle suddenly recalled the promise
she had given Jack that he should be the first to learn of her
success. It was now time for him to be at the cabin and she would have
an opportunity to see him before the return of the others to the
house. Accordingly, she restored the empty box to its hiding place,
and having concealed the most of its contents in her own room,
started forth on her joyful errand, taking with her the tiny locket
and the letter.

As she approached the cabin she saw Jack sitting with Rex in the
door-way and knew that he was alone. Jack, to whom her face was an
open book, read the tidings which she had brought before they had
exchanged a word. He rose to meet her, and looking into her radiant
face, he said in gentle tones and with a grave smile:

"You have good news! Have you found what you hoped to find?"

"I have," she replied, "and you who have shared all my troubles must
be the first sharer of my joy."

Together they entered the cabin, and seated in the little, familiar
room, Lyle told the story of her discovery, and opening the locket,
placed it in Jack's hands.

For a moment he gazed silently at the little trinket, then he said in
low tones, as if half to himself, "It is she, and you are her child,
as I have always believed," then added, "I rejoice with you, Lyle, I
am glad for your sake."

But even as he spoke, Lyle, notwithstanding the exuberance of her own
joy, could not fail to observe in his face indications of poignant
pain, as he looked at the lovely pictured face, and as she repeated
the name inscribed opposite.

"Jack!" she suddenly exclaimed, "have I made you suffer by my
thoughtlessness? Forgive me!"

"No, my dear," he answered tenderly, "you have caused me no pain; if I
suffer, it is on account of bitter memories of which you a