of happy joy welled from her eyes.

"I--I do not understand," said Jack.

"My young friend, 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
you 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 look upon 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 had ripened into the
maturer beauty of womanhood. There was the same dazzling complexion--the
same soft flush upon the cheeks. The eyes, too, were wonderfully like
Ida's. Jack looked, and what he saw convinced him.

"You must be right," he said. "Ida is very much like you."

"You think so?" said Mrs. Clifton, eagerly.

"Yes, madam."

"I had a picture--a daguerreotype--taken of Ida just before I lost her.
I have treasured it carefully. I must show it to you."

The carriage stopped before a stately mansion in a wide and quiet
street. The driver dismounted, and opened the door. Jack assisted Mrs.
Clifton to alight.

Bashfully, he followed the lady up the steps, and, at her bidding,
seated himself in an elegant apartment, furnished with a splendor which
excited his wonder. He had little time to look about him, for Mrs.
Clifton, without pausing to take off her street-attire, hastened down
stairs with an open daguerreotype in her hand.

"Can you remember Ida when she was brought to your house?" she asked.
"Did she look like this?"

"It is her image," said Jack, decidedly. "I should know it anywhere."

"Then there can be no further doubt," said Mrs. Clifton. "It is my child
whom you have cared for so long. Oh, why could I not have known it? How
many sleepless nights and lonely days would it have spared me! But God
be thanked for this late blessing! Pardon me, I have not yet asked your
name."

"My name is Crump--Jack Crump."

"Jack?" said the lady, smiling.

"Yes, madam; that is what they call me. It would not seem natural to be
called by another."

"Very well," said Mrs. Clifton, with a smile which went to Jack's heart
at once, and made him think her, if anything, more beautiful than Ida;
"as Ida is your adopted sister, that makes us connected in some way,
doesn't it? I won't call you Mr. Crump, for that would seem too formal.
I will call you J