Then they talked together of the beautiful girl whom they had come so far to seek, when all the time she was a part of their own household, and as they talked there naturally enough crept into Edith’s mind the shadow of a fear, lest, after all, there might be some mistake. But there was none apparently, for the colonel made every inquiry possible with regard to Mary Rogers, finding beyond a doubt that she was Mary Stover, and that her sister Anne had been a nurse in —— Street Hospital nineteen years before, and that it was by their mother, then living in Dorset Street, that the child was taken when it left the hospital. There could be no doubt, and as Edith was far too weak and too much overcome to undertake the journey home immediately, the colonel decided to remain a week or two in London, and wrote at once to Glenthorpe, asking Robert to bring Emma to them, but reserving the secret of Gertie’s birth until they came. Then he wrote to Gertie herself, but thought it better not to confide the whole to her until he saw her face to face. So he merely said that being in London he had thought it well to make some inquiries at the —— Bank, and, if possible, discover something of her family. “And dear Gertie,” he wrote, “you will be no less astonished and delighted than I was to find that beyond the shadow of a doubt you are _our own daughter_. I cannot tell you all on paper. I only assure you that it is true, and when we return I will explain it to you. Mrs. Schuyler is not very well, but I hope she will be able to return in the Cuba, which sails in two weeks. With love and a kiss for little Arthur, who, I trust, is well, I am, “Your affectionate father, H. SCHUYLER.” This was his letter, which he read to Edith, who said: “But, Howard, you never told her how my heart is aching for her, or gave her my love or anything.” “Never mind,” the colonel answered, good-naturedly. “You will have all your lifetime to tell her of your love.” And so the letter which would tell Gertie so much, and yet so little, was sent, and two days after Robert Macpherson arrived in London, bringing with him Emma, the little lady of Glenthorpe, who was perfectly wild over her husband and her beautiful home among the Highlands, and insisted that her father should go there if only for a few days. “You must see what a good mistress I make, and what a high-bred lady I am to the people who just worship Robert, and I do believe like him all the more because his mother was one of them. I begin to believe in what are called _mésalliances_ after all.” Now was the time to tell the story of another _mésalliance_, and the colonel told it, while Robert and Emma listened breathlessly, and when the _denouement_ was reached the latter exclaimed, joyfully: “Oh, I am so glad, that it is Gertie. She is your cousin, Robert, your own cousin, and it is all just like a story. Oh, I am _so_ glad!”