This part of Jean’s evidence was, indeed, of the most irrefragable kind; for the resemblance was remarkably striking. “An’ if that’ll no satisfy ye,” she went on, “is there no half-a-dozen an’ mair o’ oor folk, that saw the hail affair, an’ that’ll swear to the truth o’ a’ that I’ve said?—an’ ye may tak them up, ane by ane, this minute, if ye like, an’ examine them a’ separately on the subject; an’ if ye find ane o’ them contradick me in the sma’est particular, dinna believe ae word o’ what I hae said. An’, if that’ll no convince ye yet, Mr Riddell,” she continued, “ye shall hae mair proof still. Come here, Gordon,” she said, addressing the young man, who, in silent amazement, was listening to this extraordinary _denouement_—“sit down.” He obeyed; and she pulled off the shoe and stocking from his left leg. Then holding up the lad’s naked foot, “Do ye ken thae twa taes, then, Mr Riddell?” she inquired, pointing, at the same time, to the little toe and the one adjoining to which the former was united. “He is my son! he is my son! I can no longer doubt it,” exclaimed Mr Riddel, in a rapture of joy, on seeing this proof of his identity. And he rushed towards Gordon, and folded him in his arms. “Oh! cruel woman!” he said, after the first burst of emotion had so far subsided as to allow him to speak—“to keep my boy so long from me, and to cause me so many weary nights and days, and long years of sorrow and mourning on his account! But I forgive you,” he immediately added; “I forgive you, in consideration of the happiness which you have this day conferred on me, late though it be.” “You may forgie me, Mr Riddel,” said the now repentant gipsy; “but I canna forgie mysel. I hae made some amends, noo, hooever,” she continued; “an’ that’s a relief to my conscience. But I hae still another score o’ the same kind to pay off in another quarter; and it shall be dune at a’ hazards—but o’ this, mair hereafter. I hae dune ye a great wrang, Mr Riddel,” continued Jean; “but I was aye kind to yer bairn. I hae been a mother to him ever since I first took him in my arms, as I daur say he will, sae far as he recollects, bear witness. He’ll say that muckle for me, I’m sure.” “That I will, Jean,” said Gordon, taking her kindly by the hand; “an’ may I be forgotten by Him that’s aboon when I forget you, or yer motherly kindness to and care owre me!” “Enough, enough, Francis Riddel,” said his father—“for that was the name, my son, I intended to have given you, and it is the name by which I shall now and henceforth designate you—I forgive her. Nay, I not only forgive her, man, but, if she will quit this wandering life of hers, I will see to her future subsistence and comfort as long as she lives.” “Many thanks, Mr Riddel, for your goodness,” said Jean, “but I’m no just yet prepared for that step. But, when I am, which will maybe be very sune, I’ll no fail to seek the shelter ye sae kindly offer me.”