would be more than any mother could bear," said Mrs.
Randolph, softly. "But such strange, romantic things don't often happen
in this world, Marjorie dear. The poor child's mother is probably dead,
or she would have found her long ago. How did the accident happen?"

Marjorie gave a great gasp.

"We--we are not quite sure," she said. "Undine says the people at the
hospital told her a stone must have fallen on her head. She was found in
San Francisco under some ruins, after--after the earthquake."

"After the earthquake," repeated Mrs. Randolph in a strange, startled
tone, and she grew suddenly pale. "Oh, poor, poor child! At least my
little Barbara was spared those horrors. Why have you never told me
about this girl before, Marjorie?"

"Because Beverly said it made you sad to have any one speak of the
earthquake, and I couldn't have told Undine's story without mentioning
it. It was dreadful, of course, but she was saved. Think of it, Mrs.
Randolph, she was saved, and perhaps some time--" poor Marjorie's
over-strained nerves gave way, and she burst into tears.

Mrs. Randolph had grown very white; she was trembling, too, but she
laid a firm hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Marjorie," she cried sharply, "what does this mean? Why are you telling
me all this? Something has happened, I know it has--oh, Marjorie, for
God's sake tell me what it is! My little girl is dead; they brought her
home to me, though they would not let me see her dear face. Marjorie,
why do you cry so? You must tell me at once, do you hear? I say at
once."

"Oh, Mrs. Randolph, darling Mrs. Randolph, it isn't anything sad, indeed
it isn't," sobbed Marjorie, with her arms about her friend's neck. "It's
something beautiful; more beautiful and wonderful than you can ever
imagine. I can't say any more, but Beverly will be here very soon, and
he will tell you. Try to think of the very greatest joy that could
possibly come to any one, and perhaps you will begin to have an idea
what it is."

Marjorie paused, conscious of the fact that some one had entered the
room. In their excitement neither she nor Mrs. Randolph had noticed the
opening of the door, or the sound of an approaching footstep. But now as
she lifted her face from her friend's shoulder, Marjorie saw two figures
standing on the threshold; they were Dr. Randolph and Beverly. At the
same moment Mrs. Randolph also recognized them, and held out her arms to
her son.

"Beverly," she cried, "tell me