them even in the midst of their apparent despair.

"Tomorrow would have been his anniversary day," murmured the mother,
sadly, "who knows, but that, after all, he may come back."

"My dear," said the bishop, pausing in front of her, and laying his hand
gently upon her shoulder, "I think we mistake in trying to deceive
ourselves. It is better to cultivate the spirit of resignation."

At this moment, Joseph, the house man, entered and quietly approaching
the bishop, handed him a card. Glancing at the card, the bishop said:
"Conduct him to the reception room. I will be there presently." Written
with pencil on the card were the words: "A stranger desires to see you."
That was all.

The bishop laid the card upon the stand by his wife's side and
left the room.

The visitor's back was toward the bishop as he entered. He wore a long
duster, and held his hat in his hand. The bishop's quiet salutation
caused the man to turn partially around, and at the sight of his face the
bishop started slightly and asked: "Whom have I the pleasure of
addressing?"

"Father! Don't you know me?" burst from the visitor's lips, and then his
eyes fell, as if he were overwhelmed with a sense of shame and remorse.

The bishop raised his hand in a gesture of blank amazement. Surely this
mature man could not possibly be his son!

But at this moment his wife pushed past him exclaiming: "It is Edward, it
is Edward!" She threw her arms around Carl's neck, and the next moment he
was supporting her unconscious form, for she had fainted. The bishop
recovering from his astonishment assisted Carl in placing her upon a
sofa, and an instant later Eleen, the daughter, was at her side. The
bishop embraced the trembling, tearful prodigal, but could only
inarticulately murmur: "My boy--my boy--you have come back--you have come
back! Can it really be you--Edward?"

"Yes, father," sobbed the young man, "I am, indeed, Edward, your son; but
I am no more worthy to be thus called. I have sinned, father, against you
and in heaven's sight."

"Sinned," said his father, still embracing him. "What of that? Are you
not my son, and are you not living? O, how is this? We had so nearly
given you up."

Nor was his sister's welcome less affectionate. "You are my brother
Eddie," she exclaimed, kissing him fondly, "and you are alive! You were
not drowned. O, we hardly dared to hope for this!"

The mother's eyes at last opened, and she motioned for her son to come
and sit