“At first I hesitated, for I felt kinder mean always about keepin’ it, and I didn’t want ’Leny to know I’d got it. I told him so, and he said nobody but himself should ever see it. So I took a smaller one, leavin’ off the lower part of the body, as the dress is old-fashioned, you see. He was as tickled as a boy with a new top, and actually forgot to take the other one of the mountain house. Some months after, I came across him in Cincinnati. His wife was with him, and I thought then that she looked like Aunt Nancy. Wall, he went with me to my office, and said he wanted another daguerreotype, as he’d lost the first one. Now I’m, pretty good at figgerin’, and I’ve thought that matter over until I’ve come to this conclusion—_that man_—was—’Lena’s father—the husband or something of Helleny Nichols! But what ails you? Are you faintin’, too,” he exclaimed, as he saw the death-like whiteness which had settled upon Durward’s face and around his mouth. “Tell me more, everything you know,” gasped Durward. “I have told you all I know for certain,” said Joel. “The rest is only guess-work, but it looks plaguy reasonable. ’Leny’s father, I’ve heard was from South Car’lina——” “So was Mr. Graham,” said Durward, more to himself than to Joel, who continued, “And he’s your step-father, ain’t he—the husband of Lucy Temple, my cousin?” Durward nodded, and as a customer just then came in, he arose to go, telling Joel he would see him again. Alone in his room, he sat down to think of the strange story he had heard. Gradually as he thought, his mind went back to the time when Mr. Graham first came home from Springfield. He was a little boy, then, five or six years of age, but he now remembered many things calculated to prove what he scarcely yet dared to hope. He recalled Mr. Graham’s preparations to return, when he was taken suddenly ill. He knew that immediately atter his recovery he had gone northward. He remembered how sad he had seemed after his return, neglecting to play with him as had been his wont, and when to this he added Joel’s story, together with the singularity of his father’s conduct towards ’Lena, he could not fail to be convinced. “She _is_ innocent, thank heaven! I see it all now. Fool that I was to be so hasty,” he exclaimed, his whole being seemed to undergo a sudden change as the joyous conviction flashed upon him. In his excitement he forgot his promise of again seeing Joel Slocum, and ere the sun-setting he was far on his road home. Occasionally he felt a lingering doubt, as he wondered what possible motive his father could have had for concealment, but these wore away as the distance between himself and Kentucky diminished. As the train paused at one of the stations, he was greatly surprised at seeing John Jr. among the crowd gathered at the depot. “Livingstone, Livingstone, how came you here?” shouted Durward, leaning from the open window.