almost immediately
with the photograph, and handed it to Helen, who examined it as well as
she could by the dim firelight.

"The face is an interesting one, as well as I can make out," said Helen,
"and it has a strangely familiar look. He was very young."

She handed the picture to her aunt. Her face was very pale.

"I can't see by this light," said Miss Tewksbury. But Uncle Prince had
already brought a lamp which he had been lighting. "Why, my dear," said
Miss Tewksbury, in a tone of voice that suggested both awe and
consternation--"why, my dear, this is your brother Wendell!"

"Oh, Aunt Harriet! I thought so--I was afraid so--but are you sure?"

"As sure as that I am sitting here."

Helen burst into tears. "Oh, why didn't I recognize him? How could I
fail to know my darling brother?" she cried.

Hallie rose from her low stool, and stood gazing at Helen. Her face was
pale as death, but in her eyes gleamed the fire of long-suppressed grief
and passion. She seemed like one transformed. She flung her white arms
above her head, and exclaimed:

"I knew it! I knew it! I knew that some poor heart would find its
long-lost treasure here. I have felt it--I have dreamed it! Oh, I am so
glad you have found your brother!"

"Oh, but I should have known his picture," said Helen.

"But, my dear child," said Miss Tewksbury, in a matter-of-fact way,
"there is every reason why you should not have known it. This picture
was taken in Washington, and he never sent a copy of it home. If he did,
your father put it away among his papers. You were not more than twelve
years old when Wendell went away."

"Perhaps if Hallie will get the fragment of letter," said General
Garwood to Miss Tewksbury, "it will confirm your impression."

"Oh, it is no impression," replied Miss Tewksbury. "I could not possibly
be mistaken."

The fragment of letter, when produced, proved to be in the handwriting
of Charles Osborne Eustis; and there was one sentence in it that was
peculiarly characteristic. "Remember, dear Wendell," it said, "that the
war is not urged against men; it is against an institution which the
whole country, both North and South, will be glad to rid itself of."

It would be difficult, under all the circumstances, to describe Helen's
thoughts. She was gratified--she was more than gratified--at the
unexpected discovery, and she was grateful to those who had cared for
her brother's grave with such scrupulous care. She felt more at h