is
risen from the grave...."

"God's my life, Granny, what will ye be for saying next to her
ladyship?" John Costrell had heard none of the story.

"It's all quite right, Mr. Costrell," said Gwen. "Granny Marrable
doesn't mean really dead. She _thought_ her dead--her sister.... Go on,
Granny! That is quite right. And has Dr. Nash told you where your sister
is now?"

"At my own home at Chorlton, my lady. And I am on my way there now, and
will see her once more, God willing, before we die."

"Go to her--go to her! The sooner the better!... I must tell you one
thing, though. She is not strong--not like you and your daughter Ruth.
But you will see." The old lady began with something about her gratitude
to Gwen and to her father, but Gwen cut her short. What did that matter,
now? Then she assured her that old Maisie had been told everything, and
was only uneasy lest her sister should not know her again, and would
even doubt her identity. "But that is impossible," said Gwen. "Because
she _is_ your sister, and remembers all your childhood together."

After they had parted company, and Gwen was on her way again, relieved
beyond measure to find that Dr. Nash had contrived to carry out his
mission so well--though how he had done it was a mystery to her as
yet--she had a misgiving that she ought to have produced the forged
letter to show to Granny Marrable. Perhaps, however, she had done no
harm by keeping it; as if the conviction of the two sisters of each
other's identity was to turn on what is called "evidence," what would be
its value to either? They would either know each other, or not; and if
they did _not_, enough "evidence" to hang a dozen men would not stand
against the deep-rooted belief in each other's death through those long
years.

Besides, like Dr. Nash, she had just been quite taken aback to see--now
that she came to look for it, mind you!--the amazing likeness between
the old twin sisters. How came it that she had not seen it before?--for
instance, when they were face to face in her presence at the door of
Strides Cottage, but two or three weeks since. She dismissed the forged
letter, to dwell on the enormous relief of not having another disclosure
problem before her; and also on the satisfaction she would have in
telling her father what a successful outcome had followed his venial
transgression of opening and reading it. Altogether, her feelings were
those of triumph, trampling underfoot the recollection t