asked the lady, eagerly.

"I live in New York, madam," said Jack; "but Ida was stolen from us
about three weeks since, and I have come here in pursuit of her. I have
not been able to find her yet."

"Did you call her Ida?" demanded the lady, in strange agitation.

"Yes, madam."

"My young friend," said the woman, rapidly, "I have been much interested
in the story of your sister. I should like to hear more, but not here.
Would you have any objection to coming home with me, and telling me the
rest? Then we will together concert measures for recovering her."

"You are very kind, madam," said Jack, bashfully; for the lady was
elegantly dressed, and it had never been his fortune to converse with a
lady of her social position. "I shall be glad to go home with you, and
shall be very much obliged for your advice and assistance."

"Then we will drive home at once."

With natural gallantry, Jack assisted the lady into the carriage, and,
at her bidding, got in himself.

"Home, Thomas!" she directed the driver; "and drive as fast as possible."

"Yes, madam."

"How old was your sister when your parents adopted her?" asked
Mrs. Clifton.

Jack afterward ascertained that this was her name.

"About a year old, madam."

"And how long since was that?" asked the lady, waiting for the answer
with breathless interest.

"Seven years since. She is now eight."

"It must be," murmured the lady, in low tones. "If it is indeed, as I
hope, my life will indeed be blessed."

"Did you speak, madam?"

"Tell me under what circumstances your family adopted her."

Jack related briefly how Ida had been left at their door in her infancy.

"And do you recollect the month in which this happened?"

"It was at the close of December, the night before New Year's."

"It is, it must be she!" ejaculated Mrs. Clifton, clasping her hands,
while tears of joy welled from her eyes.

"I--I don't understand," said Jack, naturally astonished.

"My young friend," said the lady, "our meeting this morning seems
providential. I have every reason to believe that this child--your
adopted sister--is my daughter, stolen from me by an unknown enemy at
the time of which I speak. From that day to this I have never been able
to obtain the slightest clew that might lead to her discovery. I have
long taught myself to think of her as dead."

It was Jack's turn to be surprised. He looked at the lady beside him.
She was barely thirty. The beauty of her girlhood