Dora’s eyes had flashed indignantly when he came forward and began to address her, but long before he was done she was sobbing with sympathy for him; and now, wiping the bright drops from her heavenly eyes, with something of her own impulsiveness she held out her dainty hand toward him, and said, sweetly: “Mr. Moulton—no, let me call you by your right name, and a better one—Mr. Ellerton, you have my full and free pardon.” “Thanks!” was all he could utter, and stooping, he kissed the little hand outstretched to him. He then turned to Robert, and was about to crave a like pardon from him, but he stopped him, saying heartily, as he shook his hand: “No, my boy, don’t say one word. I know all you would ask, and it is freely granted. I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving the life of my father. Yes, he has told me all about it,” he said, in answer to Ralph’s look of inquiry, then added, “and now let us be friends, as well as cousins, forget the past, and live as persons who are so nearly connected should live. Now I must go and greet your new-found friends.” He turned quickly away, and went to speak to his aunt and uncle, to allow Ralph time to recover himself, for he was entirely overcome at this unlooked-for cordiality. Then there was a general handshaking, while good wishes and congratulations passed blithely from lip to lip between the reunited friends. CHAPTER XXXV. FURTHER DISCLOSURES. When their boisterous joy had subsided a little, Alfred Ellerton turned again to his wife and said: “My love, your story was rather unceremoniously interrupted. If you feel equal to it, I would like to hear how you spent all those long years, after you gave up our boy.” There was a tenderness in his voice, as he pronounced the words “our boy,” that brought the tears to Ralph’s eyes, and, seeking his mother’s side again, he remained a rapt listener while she continued her tale. “I lived,” she said, “most of the time quite comfortably by the effort of my needle. But sometimes, when too ill to work, I was very destitute. I left Naples and went into a quiet village, where the people were kind and friendly, and after a while my life became quite peaceful, but, oh, so lonely. “Finally a long and weary sickness unfitted me for labor of any kind, and I resolved to return to my native land and make one last appeal to Ralph. “I had not quite money enough to defray my expenses, so I pawned everything but a few necessary articles and the precious brooch.