nued the old gentleman, patting her on the cheek, "and
where did you get that pretty mole?"

"My mother gave it me, sir," replied the blushing child; "but I did
not see her do it, because Nurse Chapman told me she went to heaven as
soon as I was born."

"Your mother! And what was your mother's name?" said Mr. Montague.

"Darnley, sir," said the child, and suddenly recollecting the lesson
that had been taught her--"but my name is Biddy Bullen, and that is my
aunt."

"Darnley!" exclaimed Mrs. Montague--"the very child that has been for
these twelve months past advertised in all the papers"--then turning
to convince herself of the fact--"and the very mole confirms it."

Mr. Montague immediately attempted to secure the woman, but her
activity eluded his grasp, and darting out at the back door she was
out of sight in a few moments.

"Is she really gone? Is she gone?" all the little voices at once
demanded, and upon Mr. Montague's assuring them she was really gone
for ever, their joy broke out in a thousand different ways--some
cried, some laughed, and others jumped. In short, there never was a
scene more completely calculated to interest the feelings of a
benevolent heart.

Mr. Montague's carriage at this period arrived, and the footman was
desired to fetch a magistrate from Wycombe, while the worthy clergyman
resolved to remain there until his arrival, and began questioning all
the children. Two had been there from so early a period that they
could give no account of their name or origin, but all the rest were
so clear in their description that the benevolent Mr. Montague had no
doubt of being able to restore them to their afflicted parents.

The magistrate soon arrived, attended by the worthy rector of the
place, who, hearing from Mr. Montague's servant that a child had been
stolen, came with the intent of offering his services.

All but Eliza were immediately put under his protection, but Mrs.
Montague was so anxious she should be their earliest care that she
begged her husband to order a post-chaise directly, and set off
immediately for town. This request was willingly complied with, and by
three o'clock the next afternoon the party arrived at Darnley Hall.

Mrs. Collier was standing at the window when the carriage stopped, and
looking earnestly at her niece suddenly exclaimed in a tone of
rapture: "My child! My child! My lost Eliza!"

Mr. Darnley, who was reading, sprang from his seat, and flew to the
door