ndings, and the longing came
over her to be so happily situated as this. Seeing a life-size painting
of a woman placed on a high frame near a desk, she went over to look at
it. There was something so lifelike and natural, and even familiar,
about the picture that she still further forgot how she came to be
there. She did not hear Mr. Sterling as he re-entered the room, but he
came up to her, and as she stepped aside the light fell full upon her
face almost on a level with the picture in the frame. A startled
expression came over the face of Mr. Sterling, which deepened into an
amazement. His face grew white, and he looked at her and then at the
picture, and then from the picture to her.

The light of some quick intuition spread over her face, and she thrust
her hand into her cape pocket and drew out a small gold locket, which
she opened and looked at intently, and then from the face of the man to
the face of the woman. Mr. Sterling saw the locket.

"What are you looking at, child?" he almost shrieked.

"My mother and father," she said.

He caught the locket out of her hand.

"There, there," he cried, pointing to the painting; "there is the same
picture, it is the picture of the only one I ever loved, the one now in
heaven, and you are her living image. In God's name, tell me, child,
what is your name."

"My name is Fanny," she said, "Fanny Jones; sometimes they call me
'Fanny Sterling.' Mary Sterling was my----"

She never finished the sentence. With a cry of joy he caught her in his
arms, sobbing and laughing; "My child, my child, my own little girl;
found, found at last!"

Johnny at this amazing outburst had come up as if to protect his sister,
and as Mr. Sterling saw him he cried, "And is this your brother, the
baby I left never to see again till now?"

Mr. Sterling sat down and drew Johnny up to him. "A rough, hearty,
honest farmer boy," he said; "I can not realize that after an endless
search, you have been sent to me in such a strange manner."

Mr. Sterling overcome with his emotion, buried his face in his hands,
and Fanny kneeling by his side, looked wistfully at him, not knowing
what to think or do. Mr. Warner, in answer to the call, had come to the
door and witnessed the whole scene. He could not understand it, and his
astonishment rendered him speechless. At last without moving from his
place at the door, he said: "What can this mean, may I ask? It is a
mystery to me."

"My children," was all Mr.