ce more grew calm.

Before they separated for the night, Mr Jones offered up a thanksgiving
for the great mercy God had vouchsafed to them; and commending his
newly-found niece to the further protection of that gracious Providence,
who had led the orphan to her home; in His presence, and that of his
wife and her friends, he solemnly blessed her, and adopted her as his
own child.

It need scarcely be added that his wife registered and signed the vow
that her husband made.

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE HAPPIEST MAN IN THE WORLD.

Most people know what it is to awake from sleep the morning after a
great sorrow; some, also, know what it is to awake after a great and
unexpected joy. Gladys opened her eyes upon a dark, thick, cheerless
November fog in London, one of the most depressing of all the
atmospheric influences. But she did not think of the fog. Although she
did not at first fully realise the happiness that she had experienced,
and was to experience, she felt, on awakening, a strange sensation of
spirits so light, and a heart beating to such cheerful measure, that it
all seemed too ethereal to be real. She thought it was the continuation
of a blissful dream. For many a long year she had retired to rest, and
arisen in the morning calm, resigned, nay, cheerful; but it was the
calmness and resignation of a soul attuned by prayer and self-restraint
to an equanimity that rarely was disturbed by mirth or pleasure. Now,
that soul seemed to dance within her to exhilarating melodies. So happy
had been her dreams, so joyous her sleep, that her eyes sparkled
unwonted fires when she opened them; and as she jumped out of bed, there
was an elasticity in her movements that surprised her very self.

Netta and Minette were still sleeping, and as she dressed herself
carefully and neatly, she almost forgot that every one else was not as
suddenly raised from sorrow to joy as herself.

'He will come to-day,' she thought, as she smoothed her dark hair, 'and
I shall meet him as an equal, no longer a suspicion of my truth. He will
not know it yet, but I know it, and oh! the difference of feeling that
you can clear yourself by a word when you like. Not to him, for he never
doubted--generous, kind Mr Owen! but to his father! to all. How can I be
thankful enough! and such an uncle and aunt! It must be a dream; but
will he care for me still? so long! and after all my coldness. He has
asked me again and again, and each time have I refu