“We had reason to suspect that the young girl, Jessie Lyndon, whom Mrs. Dalrymple buried as her daughter almost two years ago, had been resurrected and was alive in New York, and--we find that our suspicions are true.” “This is startling!” cried the doctor, but Cora listened silently with a ghastly face and burning eyes. Frank Laurier continued: “We know that it is true because I went, by Mrs. Dalrymple’s request, to her vault in Greenwood this morning, and opened the casket that we saw closed on the dead face of her daughter. It was empty.” “Is it possible?” “And,” continued Frank, “as if to prove correct the suspicions of our friend that her divorced husband had taken away the corpse, I found on the floor a glove that was marked inside with the name Leon Dalrymple.” “Ah, it is true, it is true!” cried the invalid faintly, triumphantly. “My daughter lives! I shall not die now that I have that happy knowledge. And you will find her for me, Frank? Every moment is an hour till my Darling is restored to me!” cried the anxious mother. “I will do all that is possible,” he answered, but in her anxiety she made him promise to insert personals in all the newspapers begging Jessie Lyndon to come at once to her sick mother, V. D. Frank’s first effort was to find the chauffeur who had taken Jessie away from the steamer, but he was unsuccessful. Days came and went with no tidings, and then more personals appeared offering rewards for news of Jessie Lyndon. In the meantime, she had never returned to the Widow Doyle’s humble cot nor sent any message. But Carey Doyle, watching proceedings with a hawk eye, chanced upon the personals and ejaculated: “Come, now, this is very strange. The old lady said she had gone to see Mrs. Dalrymple, yet apparently she never got there. Is there foul play anywhere? Maybe I have stumbled on a private Klondyke of my own! I’ll claim that reward for news of her anyway, but I won’t face Laurier, I’ll go to Mrs. Dalrymple herself.” And so eager was the lady for news that he gained admittance to her boudoir, where she sat in an easy-chair getting stronger every day, and claiming the reward, obtained it, and blurted out his news. Mrs. Dalrymple was terribly startled. She called out in wild excitement: “Send Miss Ellyson to me instantly!” CHAPTER XXXVIII. LOVE REKINDLED. Cora had been listening outside the door, and she darted in now, exclaiming: “I was just coming in when I heard you call for me, dear aunt.” She gazed at Carey Doyle as if he had been a perfect stranger, but her face was ghastly with fear lest he meant also to betray her secret. But he flashed her a swift, reassuring look while Mrs. Dalrymple exclaimed: “Only think, Cora, this man has news of Darling. Kindly repeat it to her, sir.” And Carey Doyle, who remembered well the rivalry between Cora and Jessie, took a malicious pleasure in doing so, gloating over each word as he saw how ghastly pale and frightened she grew.