n in some degree returned. "Cobbler" Horn's fingers
closed upon her hand, with a gentle pressure.

"My dear young lady, there is something that I wish to ask you."

There was just the slightest tremor in his voice; and the young secretary
was distinctly conscious of the beating of her heart.

"Yes, sir," she said, faintly, trembling a little.

"Don't be agitated," he continued, for it was impossible to overlook the
fact of her excitement. "It's a very simple matter."

He did not know--how could he?--that her thoughts were running in the same
direction as his own.

"You said," he pursued, "that, when you were found by your good friends,
you were wearing only one shoe. Did you--have you that shoe still?"

It was evident that he was agitated now. Miss Owen started, and he could
feel her hand quiver within his grasp, like a frightened bird.

"Yes," she answered in a whisper, above which she felt powerless to raise
her voice, "I have kept it ever since."

"Then," he resumed, having now quite recovered his self-possession, "would
you mind letting me see it?"

With a strong effort, she succeeded in maintaining her self-control.

"Oh no, not at all, sir!" she said, rising, and moving towards the door;
"I'll fetch it at once. But it isn't much to look at now," she added over
her shoulder, as she left the room.

"'Not much to look at'!" laughed "the Golden Shoemaker" softly to himself.
There was nothing that he had ever been half so anxious to see!

Five minutes later he was sitting up in bed, turning over and over in his
hands the fellow of the little shoe which he had cherished for so many
years as the dearest memento of his lost child. Could there be any doubt?
Was it not his own handiwork? It had evidently received several random
slashes with a knife, and it still bore traces of mud. But he knew his own
work too well; and had he not looked upon the fellow of this shoe every
day for the last twelve years?

Strange to say, so completely absorbed was "Cobbler" Horn in contemplating
the shoe which his Marian had worn, that, for the moment, he did not think
of Marian herself. At length he looked up. But he was alone. Discretion,
and the tumult of her emotions, had constrained the young secretary to
withdraw from the room. Putting a strong hand upon herself, she had
retired to the office, where she was, at that moment, diligently at work.

"Cobbler" Horn sighed. But perhaps it was better that the young girl had
with