off to the Banks again soon. From your
brother,

OBED PUTNAM,
Captain of the Polly Sanders.
"Portsmouth Harbor, N.H.

"P.S. The baby was a year old the eighth of last January. Its name is
Linda Fernborough Chessman."

The tears had welled up again in the young girl's eyes, when Quincy read
of the death of her mother and her burial at sea. His own hand trembled
perceptibly when he realized that the young woman before him, though not
his cousin, was yet connected by indisputable ties of relationship to
his own aunt, Mrs. Ella Chessman. Following his usual habit of reticence
he kept silence, thinking that it would be inappropriate to detract in
any way from the happy reunion of grandfather and granddaughter.

Sir Stuart had scarcely moved during the reading of the letter. He had
sat with his right hand covering his eyes, but yet evidently listening
attentively to each word as it fell from the reader's lips. As Quincy
folded up the letter and passed it back to Linda, Sir Stuart arose and
came forward to the front part of the room. Quincy took Linda's hand and
led her towards Mr. Fernborough. Then he said, "Sir Stuart, I think this
letter proves conclusively that this young lady's real name is Linda
Fernborough Chessman. I knew personally Mr. Silas Putnam, mentioned in
the letter, and scores of others can bear testimony that she has lived
nearly all her life with this Silas Putnam, and has been known to all as
his adopted daughter. There is no doubt but that the Linda Fernborough
who was buried at sea was her mother. If you are satisfied that Mrs.
Charles Chessman was your daughter, it follows that this young lady must
be your granddaughter."

"There is no doubt of it in my mind," said Sir Stuart, taking both of
Linda's hands in his. "I live at Fernborough Hall, which is located in
Heathfield, in the county of Sussex. But, my dear, I did not know until
to-day that my poor daughter had a child, and it will take me just a
little time to get accustomed to the fact. Old men's brains do not act
as quickly as my young friend's here." As he said this he looked towards
Quincy. "But I am sure that we both of us owe to him a debt of gratitude
that it will be difficult for us ever to repay."

The old gentleman drew Linda towards him and folded her tenderly in his
arms. "Come, rest here, my dear one," said he; "your doubts and hopes,
your troubles and trials, and your wanderings are over." He kissed her
on the forehead, and Lind