hey had been so closely
united while as yet unconscious of their relationship. The summons to
lunch recalled them to the present. As they rose to leave the room Mr.
Britton threw his arm affectionately about Darrell's shoulders,
exclaiming,--

"My son! Mine! and I have loved you as such from the first time I looked
into your eyes! If God will now only permit me to see my beloved wife
again, I can ask nothing more!"

And as Darrell gazed at the noble form, towering slightly above his own,
and looked into the depths of those gray eyes, penetrating, fearless,
yet tender as a woman's, he felt that however sweet and sacred had been
the friendship between them in the past, it was as naught compared with
the infinitely sweeter and holier relationship of father and son.

They passed into the dining-room where Mr. Underwood and Mrs. Dean
awaited them, a look of eager expectancy on both faces, the wistful
expression of Mrs. Dean as she watched for the first token of
recognition on Darrell's part being almost pathetic.

Mr. Britton, who had entered slightly in advance, paused half-way across
the room, and, placing his hand on Darrell's shoulder, said, in a voice
which vibrated with emotion,--

"My dear friends, Mrs. Dean and Mr. Underwood, allow me to introduce my
son, John Darrell Britton!"

There, was a moment of strained silence in which only the labored
breathing of Mr. Underwood could be heard.

"Do you mean that you have adopted him?" Mr. Underwood asked, slowly,
seeming to speak with difficulty.

"No, David; he is my own flesh and blood--my legitimate son; I will
explain later."

Mrs. Dean and Darrell had clasped hands and were scanning each other's
faces.

"John, do you remember me?" she asked, with trembling lips.

Darrell bent his head and kissed her. "I do, Mrs. Dean," he replied.

She smiled, at the same time wiping away a tear with the corner of her
white apron.

"I don't think I could have borne it if you hadn't," she remarked,
simply; then, shaking hands with Mr. Britton, she added:

"I congratulate you, Mr. Britton; I congratulate you both. If ever there
were two who ought to be father and son, you are the two."

Mr. Underwood wrung Darrell's hand. "I congratulate you, boy, and I'm
mighty glad to find you're not a stranger to us, after all."

Then, grasping his old-time partner's hand, he added: "Jack, you old
fraud! You've always got the best of me on every bargain, but I forgive
you this time