soul. Neighbours came in, and Frida turned away
from the death-bed with a heart full of gratitude to the Lord that she
had been allowed with His own words to soothe and comfort the old
nurse, who she felt sure had tended and loved her own mother.

When she returned to the Hall, the Stanfords were truly grieved to hear
that the old woman was dead, and that there had been no further
revelation regarding Frida's relations. Lady Stanford and Ada had just
persuaded Frida to go to bed and rest awhile after her night of
watching, when the door opened, and the butler came in bearing a
telegram to Miss Heinz. Frida opened it with trembling hands, saw it was
from Miss Drechsler, and read the words, "Come at once; you are needed
here."

What could it mean? Was Miss Drechsler ill? It looked like it, for who
else would require her in London? Fatigue was forgotten; she could rest,
she said, in the train; she must go at once. In a couple of hours she
could start. Ada was disconsolate. Nevertheless, feeling the urgency of
the case, she assisted her friend to pack her boxes; and erelong Frida
was off, all unaware of what might be awaiting her in the great city.
But ere we can tell that, we must turn for a while to other scenes, and
write of others closely linked, although unknown to herself, with the
life and future of the child found in the Black Forest.

CHAPTER XV.

THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE.

"Being convicted by their own conscience."

The day on which Reginald Gower met Dr. Heinz on the street, and sent
through him a farewell message to Gertrude Warden, found him a couple of
hours afterwards seated in his mother's boudoir, communicating to her
his suddenly-formed plan of starting in a few days for America.

It was no easy thing to do. The bond between mother and son was a very
strong one, and her pleasure in having had him with her for some little
time had been great. Her look of pleasure when he entered the room made
it more difficult for him to break the news to her.

"Earlier back to-day than usual, Reggie," she said, "but never too early
for your old mother. But is anything amiss?" she said in a voice of
alarm, as she noticed the grave look on his face. "Have you heard any
bad news, or are you ill?"

"No, mother, it is neither of these things--there is nothing the matter;
only I fear, mother dear, that what I am going to say will vex you, but
you must not let it do so. I am not worth all the affection you l