Then he crossed the room, knelt at her feet, and said: “My wife, I have no word to say for myself. Let our child plead for me.” And he laid little Lenny on her lap. No, there was no scene that could he fully reported here. Husband and child, both restored to her in an instant! It is a wonder she had not died then and there! But she did not even faint. Heaven, that had sustained her through such long-drawn-out, unutterable sorrows, gave her strength now to meet the sudden shock of joy. She gently put little Lenny aside for a moment, where the child, still awed into silence, stood quietly. She stooped and fell upon her Alick’s neck and clasped him to her; she wept over him in ecstasy; she kissed him again and again, sobbing words of the fondest endearment—sacred words not to be written here. Lenny looked on in wonder and awe for some time; but at last his impatience overcame every other emotion, and he sang out: “Me, too! Me, too! Me, too! ’Top it, Doosa! Tate Lenny up!” Alick, with a face radiant with joy, once more snatched up the child, and kissed him rapturously, and put him in his mother’s arms, saying: “Tell him who I am, darling wife! Tell him who I am!” “Does he not know?” inquired Drusilla, who was covering her child with caresses. “No. I never felt that I had any right to tell him.” “Lenny, love, do you know who that gentleman is?” she asked, looking fondly at the child and then at the father. “Ess I do! he bring Lenny home to Doosa,” answered the boy. “Look at him, Lenny. He is your papa.” “Lenny’s popper?” inquired the baby looking with great eyes at the stranger, who had now taken on a new interest for him. “Yes,” softly answered his mother. “Lenny dot popper _too_?” At this innocent question, in which so much was expressed, Alexander, again conscience-stricken, turned away his head to hide the tears that rushed to his eyes. But for all reply, Drusilla stooped and kissed her child and handed him back to his father. The reconciliation was perfect. Later, they went into the drawing-room, to which Dick brought Anna and General Lyon all of whom, amid tears and caresses, offered their earnest congratulations to the reunited pair; and rejoiced with an exceeding great joy over the restoration of little Lenny. But all this was nothing to the frantic delight of Pina when she heard little Lenny had been found. She ran to him, she snatched him up, kissed him and hugged him, and laughed and cried over him to such a degree that even Master Leonard, who could bear a great deal of that sort of thing, was obliged to order her to— “’Top it.” And then she ceased, and bore him off to dress him in all his finery for dinner. Yes, the reconciliation was perfect. And as it very seldom happens that any human being suffers as Drusilla had suffered, so, also, it falls to the lot of very few to be so happy as she was that evening and ever thereafter.