"My dear friends, Mrs. Dean and Mr. Underwood, allow me to introduce my son, John Darrell Britton!"
There, was a moment of strained silence in which only the labored breathing of Mr. Underwood could be heard.
"Do you mean that you have adopted him?" Mr. Underwood asked, slowly, seeming to speak with difficulty.
"No, David; he is my own flesh and blood—my legitimate son; I will explain later."
Mrs. Dean and Darrell had clasped hands and were scanning each other's faces.
"John, do you remember me?" she asked, with trembling lips.
Darrell bent his head and kissed her. "I do, Mrs. Dean," he replied.
She smiled, at the same time wiping away a tear with the corner of her white apron.
"I don't think I could have borne it if you hadn't," she remarked, simply; then, shaking hands with Mr. Britton, she added: