FOUND AND TAKEN.
'The angels of the gateway
Bent softly to the child,
And stretched glad hands to take him
To the kingdom undefiled.'—B. M.
'Come up and see him,' said Nuttie, as the dining-room door was shut. 'I must feast my eyes on him.'
Annaple replied by throwing an arm round her and looking into her eyes, kissing her on each cheek, and then, as they reached the landing in the summer twilight, waltzing round and round that narrow space with her.
'You ridiculous person!' said Nuttie. 'Do you mean that you saw!'
'Of course I did; I've seen ever so long—'
'Nonsense! That's impossible—'
'Impossible to owls and bats perhaps, but to nothing else not to see that there was one sole and single hero in the world to you, and that to him there was one single being in the world; and that being the case—-'
'But, Annaple, you can't guess what he has always been to me.'
'Oh! don't I know?—a sort of Archbishop of Canterbury and George Heriot rolled into one. So much the more reason, my dear, I don't know when I've been so glad in my life than that your good times should be coming.'