ng little girl by the hand. That gal was
Lina. My sister's face was white as foam, when she came in. I asked her
about the child, and she told me what I have been a telling you. In the
night she went away. I had fell asleep, leaning against the wall, and
didn't know she was agoing. The baby was left behind on the husk-bed.

"The next thing, my sister wandered back to the lonesome place, where
she and her baby had lived together, and without telling any one that
she was sick, lay down and died.

"Ben Benson sat in his cabin all that day, and the little child went out
and in like a lonesome bird, now a picking posies from the bank and agin
crying by the cabin door. That miserable old feller never had but one
guardian spirit on arth, and that ere night he thought of her, while the
baby lay hived up in his bosom. So he took the child up as if it had
been a little helpless lamb, and laid it down where that ere angel could
find it."

"And this was Lina!" exclaimed Ralph, with tears in his eyes. "I thank
you, Ben."

"You know this--you are certain of her identity?" said James Harrington.

"I am sartin that she's my own sister's darter, and can swear to it
afore God and man," was Ben's solemn reply. "But where is the gal? Is
she found--will she come back--does she know as this ere old chap is her
uncle?"

"She knows nothing," said Ralph, shaking the hand which Ben extended
while propounding these eager questions. "She is yonder in the sleigh,
Ben--no, not yet; she is ill, and the least excitement may do harm. Go
and find us an entrance to the house; we have tried the doors, but no
one seems astir--my fa--the General, is not home, I suppose"----

"No," answered Ben, believing what he said; "I haven't seen the General
about these four days."

"And my mother?" inquired Ralph.

"She's sartain to be there, poor lady," answered Ben, shaking his head
sorrowfully.

"Yes, yes, she's pining about Lina, but that will soon be over--bless
the dear girl--on second thought, if my mother is ill, I had better go
myself; some of the servants must be up by this time. See, there she is,
Ben, in the sleigh, muffled up in furs, poor little birdie. Go speak to
her, but remember she is feeble as a babe, so be very quiet."

"You can trust old Ben Benson for that ere," cried the boatman, looking
eagerly towards the sleigh; but with the first glance great tears came
chasing each other down his cheeks, and all unconsciously he held out
both