and I thought it possible I
might learn something here about it. Can I see this young person?"

The matron came nearer to Byles Gridley, and said: "This person is a
young woman disguised as a boy. She was rescued by my nephew at the risk
of his life, and she has been delirious ever since she has recovered
her consciousness. She was almost too far gone to be resuscitated,
but Clement put his mouth to hers and kept her breathing until her own
breath returned and she gradually came to."

"Is she violent in her delirium?"

"Not now. No; she is quiet enough, but wandering,--wants to know where
she is, and whose the strange faces are,--mine and my husband's,--that
's Dr. Lindsay,--and one of my daughters, who has watched with her."

"If that is so, I think I had better see her. If she is the person I
suspect her to be, she will know me; and a familiar face may bring back
her recollections and put a stop to her wanderings. If she does not know
me, I will not stay talking with her. I think she will, if she is the
one I am seeking after. There is no harm in trying."

Mrs. Lindsay took a good long look at the old man. There was no
mistaking his grave, honest, sturdy, wrinkled, scholarly face. His voice
was assured and sincere in its tones. His decent black coat was just
what a scholar's should be,--old, not untidy, a little shiny at the
elbows with much leaning on his study-table, but neatly bound at the
cuffs, where worthy Mrs. Hopkins had detected signs of fatigue and come
to the rescue. His very hat looked honest as it lay on the table. It had
moulded itself to a broad, noble head, that held nothing but what was
true and fair, with a few harmless crotchets just to fill in with, and
it seemed to know it.

The good woman gave him her confidence at once. "Is the person you are
seeking a niece or other relative of yours?"

(Why did not she ask if the girl was his daughter? What is that look of
paternity and of maternity which observing and experienced mothers and
old nurses know so well in men and in women?)

"No, she is not a relative. But I am acting for those who are."

"Wait a moment and I will go and see that the room is all right."

She returned presently. "Follow me softly, if you please. She is
asleep,--so beautiful,--so innocent!"

Byles Gridley, Master of Arts, retired professor, more than sixty years
old, childless, loveless, stranded in a lonely study strewed with wrecks
of the world's thought, his work in