He paused. Marie made no reply, save to pass her hand through Hugh's arm, and nestle closer to his heart. "Hugh, take her, and bless God for the prize which you have received." Hugh led the girl away with joy in his heart. "Junius"--the President spoke the word low, and with more embarrassment than he had used in addressing the others--"I know not how to commence. She who stands by your side is not my niece, but my daughter," and he took Marie Colchis' hand in his, and drew her toward him. "She is my daughter; no blood makes the tie, but that of love has given her to me. She stands before you alone in this life. No father or mother, brother or sister, or relative has she in the wide world." The tears were now falling from Marie's eyes, and she clung closer to her adopted father. Hugh and Lester looked on in silence but wonder. "She has come," he continued, "like a radiant star in our universe, and from a remote period of time. She lived years ago--a hundred or more. Do not start, Junius," as the other moved a step, and stood gazing on Marie's face with a look of partial recognition. "Like you, she lived, and died, and lived again. The same methods which were used to prolong your life were used to give life again to this fair girl. The hand that assisted at your interment prepared the casket wherein his daughter has lain for over a century. She is--" The wild excitement of Cobb's soul, paralyzed for a moment by the words of the other, now broke forth in a hoarse, pathetic cry--"Marie Colchis!" and he rushed forward, and almost crushed the fair form in his strong arms. Regardless of all present, he kissed her face, her lips--kissed her with all the depth and passion of a man receiving back from death the being divine of his heart. When Cobb's feelings had calmed sufficiently for him to realize the situation, the President led him and Marie to their chairs. "Take her, Junius; God has ordained it!" he said, with a choking sensation in his throat. Without letting too long a pause ensue, he drew from his pocket a paper, unfolded it, and said: "Listen, my children, to the last words of that girl's father, Jean Colchis." In a low tone he read: "GUADALUPE ISLAND, December 15, 1897. "JUNIUS: To you I leave these words! Dead though thou art, yet a voice tells me that you will live again. In this chamber, with the inanimate body of my darling daughter lying beside me, I write my last words to mortal man. "From the day you left us, and for years after, the heart of Marie has lain like a stone in her bosom; no feeling but that of love for you has gained entrance there. "Wealth poured in upon me, and I endeavored by its aid to surround her with life, luxury and change of scene, hoping thus to turn her thoughts into other channels than of you. It was in vain! Sad and sorrowful she passed the days and years in hope of your return.