years that have gone.
You are wonderfully like her, and I believe that during the last four
hours of his life, when his mind was a little clouded, my dear husband
thought that Hilda really sat beside him, and that it was to her he said
the words, 'I fully forgive, as I hope to be forgiven.' But comfort
yourself, Frida; at the very last he knew all distinctly, and told us to
console each other.--But now tell me what I asked you to do, and also if
you ever met any one who recognized you as your mother's daughter."

"Not exactly," replied Frida. "Still, one or two people were struck with
my likeness to some one whom they had seen, but whose name they could
not recall. Miss Drechsler was one of those, and now she says she
wonders she did not remember that it was Miss Willoughby, although she
had only seen her twice at the Wardens', and then amongst a number of
people. And then a young man, a Mr. Gower (the same name as your
friend), who had heard me play on the violin at the Stanfords' concert,
told them that he was much struck with my resemblance to a picture he
had seen. I wonder if he could be any relation to your Mrs. Gower?"

"Was his name Reginald?" Mrs. Willoughby asked hurriedly.

"Yes. Sir Richard Stanford used to call him Reginald Gower; but I seldom
saw him. But, grandmother, is there anything the matter?" for as Frida
spoke, Mrs. Willoughby's face had blanched. Was it possible, she asked
herself, that Reginald Gower had known, or at least suspected, the
existence of this child, and for very evident reasons concealed it from
his friends? A terrible fear that it was so overcame her; for she liked
the lad, and tenderly loved his mother. She felt she must betray
herself, and so answered Frida's question by saying,--

"Oh, it is nothing, dear, only a passing faintness; but I shall lie on
the sofa, and you shall finish your talk. Now tell me about the Forest."

And Frida, well pleased to speak of the friends she loved so well, told
of her childhood's life in the Forest, and the kindness shown to her by
Elsie and Wilhelm, not forgetting to speak of Hans and the little blind
Anna so early called to glory. "And, O grandmother, all the wood-cutters
and charcoal-burners were so kind to me, and many amongst them learned
to love the words of this little book;" and as she spoke she took from
her pocket the little brown German Bible, her mother's parting legacy to
her child. "It was no words of mine that opened their eyes