his tea, and was dressed, and sitting in an
easy-chair in his bedroom. Those about him had feared that the coming
effort would be too much for his strength. But there was no need for their
apprehension. Joy was proving a splendid tonic. He sat calm and collected,
awaiting the appearance of his child.

His friends were all around him. Mr. Durnford, Tommy Dudgeon, Mr.
Burton--all were there; and there, too, was Miss Jemima, no longer grim,
but subdued almost to meekness.

Then it was done in a moment. The door opened, and Mrs. Burton entered,
leading the young secretary by the hand. An instant later the girl ran
forward, with a little cry, and flung herself into the outstretched arms
of her waiting father.

For some seconds they remained thus. Then she gradually slipped down upon
her knees, and let her head fall upon his breast, while her arms embraced
him still, and his hand held closely to him her nestling face. Speech was
impossible on either side. She was weeping the sweet tears of joy, while
he vainly struggled to find utterance for his love.

One by one, their friends had stolen out of the room. Even Miss Jemima
had been content to go. The memory of that chastened lady was very vivid
to-night, and she felt humbled and subdued.

Observing the silence, "Cobbler" Horn looked up, and perceived that they
were alone.

"They have all gone, Marian," he said, gently. "Won't you look up, and let
father see your face?"

She lifted her face, bedewed yet radiant; and he took it tenderly between
his hands.

"It is indeed the face of my little Marian," he said, fondly. "How blind I
must have been!"

He gazed long and lovingly--feasting his eyes upon the brown, glowing
face, in every feature of which he could now trace so plainly those of
his little Marian of days gone by. The hope which he had never quite
relinquished was fulfilled at last! His gracious Lord had justified his
confidence, as, indeed, there had never been any reason to doubt that He
would.

"You feel quite sure about it, my dear; don't you?" he asked.

"Yes, father dear," she answered, in a thoughtful, contented tone. "There
are so many things that help to make me sure."

Then she told him of her strange feeling of familiarity with the old house
and street. She spoke of the little shoes, and of her having seen the one
in the safe. She told him what she had overheard in the tent at Daisy Lane
about her resemblance to himself.

"And besides," she conc