essful, for the keen claws of the lynx grazed Amy's shoulder,
tearing through her coat and dress, ripping off the sleeves and leaving
her arm exposed to the shoulder, a slight scratch, through even the
thicknesses of cloth, bringing blood.

With a snarl the beast turned as though to repeat the attack, but Mr.
Blackford brought down the cudgel on its head with such force that the
brute turned with a shrill cry of pain and fled.

Then the young man, who had caught the almost fainting girl in his other
arm, turned his attention to her.

"Amy--Amy!" he cried. "Are you hurt? Speak and tell me!"

Slowly she opened her eyes. The blood came back into her cheeks, that
paled again at the sight of the crimson mark on her arm.

"It is only a scratch--not deep," said Mr. Blackford, reassuringly. "The
brute leaped to one side. It must have been desperate to spring on you
that way."

"What was it?" asked Amy, weakly.

"A lynx--a fierce sort of beast. Wait, I will bind up your arm," and he
drew out his handkerchief.

As he was winding the linen about the cut he started. A queer look came
over his face. He stared at a mark--a strange red mark--on her
shoulder.

"That--that!" stammered Mr. Blackford. "How did you come by that mark,
Amy?"

He stood holding her arm--her arm whence the sleeves had been ripped,
and the young man was gazing with fascinated eyes at a peculiar
star-shaped mark in deep red imprinted on the white flesh. In red it
matched the ruddy hue of the blood drawn by the lynx.

"Tell me," he said, hoarsely, "how did that mark come there?"

"It is a birth mark," said Amy, slowly. "It has always been there. But
why--why do you question me so? Why do you look at me so strangely?"

"Because, Amy, there may be something providential in this. Because
you--you may be my--sister!"

"Your sister!" She started as though to pull away from him, but he held
her arm, continuing to gaze at the red mark.

"Yes," he answered. "Wait. I must make sure this time. I have a drawing
of it. Let me compare it, please. You are not cold?"

"No." Amy was pale, but her heart was pumping blood through her veins at
such a rapid rate that it seemed as if she would never be cold again.
The flow of blood from the scratches made by the beast had somewhat
lessened.

From his pocket Mr. Blackford drew a paper. Amy could see that it
contained a drawing--an outline in red ink. The young man compared this
with the mark on her shoulder--a mar