A school was offered him in Georgia, and thither he repaired, taking his mother with him. They were soon established in the city of A----. In hope of finding Iola he visited all the conferences of the Methodist Church, but for a long time his search was in vain. "Mamma," said Harry, one day during his vacation, "there is to be a Methodist Conference in this State in the city of S----, about one hundred and fifty miles from here. I intend to go and renew my search for Iola." "Poor child!" burst out Marie, as the tears gathered in her eyes, "I wonder if she is living." "I think so," said Harry, kissing the pale cheek of his mother; "I don't feel that Iola is dead. I believe we will find her before long." "It seems to me my heart would burst with joy to see my dear child just once more. I am glad that you are going. When will you leave?" "To-morrow morning." "Well, my son, go, and my prayers will go with you," was Marie's tender parting wish. Early next morning Harry started for the conference, and reached the church before the morning session was over. Near him sat two ladies, one fair, the other considerably darker. There was something in the fairer one that reminded him forcibly of his sister, but she was much older and graver than he imagined his sister to be. Instantly he dismissed the thought that had forced itself into his mind, and began to listen attentively to the proceedings of the conference. When the regular business of the morning session was over the bishop arose and said:-- "I have an interesting duty to perform. I wish to introduce a young lady to the conference, who was the daughter of a Mississippi planter. She is now in search of her mother and brother, from whom she was sold a few months before the war. Her father married her mother in Ohio, where he had taken her to be educated. After his death they were robbed of their inheritance and enslaved by a distant relative named Lorraine. Miss Iola Leroy is the young lady's name. If any one can give the least information respecting the objects of her search it will be thankfully received." "I can," exclaimed a young man, rising in the midst of the audience, and pressing eagerly, almost impetuously, forward. "I am her brother, and I came here to look for her." Iola raised her eyes to his face, so flushed and bright with the glow of recognition, rushed to him, threw her arms around his neck, kissed him again and again, crying: "O, Harry!" Then she fainted from excitement. The women gathered around her with expressions of tender sympathy, and gave her all the care she needed. They called her the "dear child," for without any effort on her part she had slidden into their hearts and found a ready welcome in each sympathizing bosom.