none seemed to produce so great an impression upon Mr.
Graham's mind as the singular circumstance that the child who had been
reared under his roof, and endeared herself to him, in spite of some
clashing of interests and opinions, should prove to be Philip's
daughter. As he left the room at the conclusion of the tale, and sought
the solitude of his library, he muttered to himself, "Singular
coincidence! Very singular! Very!"

Hardly had he departed before another door was timidly opened, and
Gertrude looked cautiously in. Her father went quickly towards her, and,
passing his arm around her waist, drew her towards Emily, and clasped
them both in a long and silent embrace.

"Philip," exclaimed Emily, "can you doubt the mercy which has spared us
for such a meeting?"

"Oh, Emily!" replied he, "I am deeply grateful. Teach me how and where
to bestow my tribute of praise."

On the hour of sweet communion which succeeded we forbear to dwell--the
silent rapture of Emily, the passionately-expressed joy of Philip, or
the trusting, loving glances which Gertrude cast upon both. It was
nearly midnight when Mr. Amory rose to depart. Emily, who had not
thought of his leaving the spot which she hoped he would now consider
his home, entreated him to remain; and Gertrude, with her eyes, joined
in the eager petition. But he persisted in his resolution with firmness
and seriousness.

"Philip," said Emily, laying her hand upon his arm, "you have not yet
forgiven my father." She had divined his thoughts. He shrank under her
reproachful tones, and made no answer.

"But you _will_, dear Philip--you _will_," continued she, in a pleading
voice.

He hesitated, then glanced at her once more, and replied, "I will,
dearest Emily, I will--in time."

When he had gone, Gertrude lingered a moment at the door, to watch his
retreating figure, just visible in the light of the waning moon, then
returned to the parlour, and saying, "Oh, what a day this has been!" but
checked herself, at the sight of Emily, who, kneeling by the sofa with
clasped hands, and with her white garments sweeping the floor, looked
the very impersonation of purity and prayer. Throwing one arm around her
neck, Gertrude knelt on the floor beside her, and together they sent up
to the throne of God the incense of thanksgiving and praise!

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE RECOMPENSE.

When Uncle True died, Mr. Cooper buried his old friend in the ancient
graveyard which adjoined t