y she cannot be (as I overheard a young lady say last night) just a
wood-cutter's child."

"No, she is not that," replied Sir Richard, and then he told the young
man something of her history, asking him if he had observed the strange
antique necklace which the girl wore.

"No," he answered, "I did not. Could you describe it to me?" As Sir
Richard did so a close observer must have seen a look of pained surprise
cross the young man's face, and he visibly changed colour. "Curious," he
said as he rose hastily. "It would be interesting to know how it came
into her possession; perhaps it was stolen, who knows?" And so saying,
he shook hands and departed.

Reginald Gower was the only child of an old English family of fallen
fortune. Rumour said he was of extravagant habits, but that he expected
some day to inherit a fine property and large fortune from a distant
relative.

There were good traits in Reginald's character: he had a kind heart, and
was a most loving son to his widowed mother, who doted on him; but a
love of ease and a selfish regard to his own comfort marred his whole
character, and above all things an increasing disregard of God and the
Holy Scriptures was pervading more and more his whole life.

As he walked away from Sir Richard's house, his thoughts were occupied
with the story he had just heard of the child found in the Black Forest.
He was quite aware of the fact that the girl's face forcibly reminded
him of the picture of a beautiful girl that hung in the drawing-room of
a manor-house near his own home in Gloucestershire. He knew that the
owner of that face had been disinherited (though the only child of the
house) on account of her marriage, which was contrary to the wishes of
her parents, and that now they did not know whether she were dead or
alive; though surely he had lately heard a report that, after years of
bitter indignation at her, they had softened, and were desirous of
finding out where she was, if still alive. And then what impressed him
most was the curious coincidence (he called it) that round the neck of
the girl in the picture was just such another mosaic necklace as the
Stanfords had described the one to be which the young violinist wore.

Was it possible, he asked himself, that she could be the child of the
daughter of the manor of whom his mother had often told him? and if so,
ought he to tell them of his suspicions--the more so that he had heard
from his mother that the lady of th