"As sure as that I am sitting here."
Helen burst into tears. "Oh, why didn't I recognize him? How could I fail to know my darling brother?" she cried.
Hallie rose from her low stool, and stood gazing at Helen. Her face was pale as death, but in her eyes gleamed the fire of long-suppressed grief and passion. She seemed like one transformed. She flung her white arms above her head, and exclaimed:
"I knew it! I knew it! I knew that some poor heart would find its long-lost treasure here. I have felt it—I have dreamed it! Oh, I am so glad you have found your brother!"
"Oh, but I should have known his picture," said Helen.
"But, my dear child," said Miss Tewksbury, in a matter-of-fact way, "there is every reason why you should not have known it. This picture was taken in Washington, and he never sent a copy of it home. If he did, your father put it away among his papers. You were not more than twelve years old when Wendell went away."
"Perhaps if Hallie will get the fragment of letter," said General Garwood to Miss Tewksbury, "it will confirm your impression."
"Oh, it is no impression," replied Miss Tewksbury. "I could not possibly be mistaken."
The fragment of letter, when produced, proved to be in the handwriting of Charles Osborne Eustis; and there was one sentence in it that was peculiarly characteristic. "Remember, dear Wendell," it said, "that the war is not urged against men; it is against an institution which the whole country, both North and South, will be glad to rid itself of."
It would be difficult, under all the circumstances, to describe Helen's thoughts. She was gratified—she was more than gratified—at the unexpected discovery, and she was grateful to those who had cared for her brother's grave with such scrupulous care. She felt more at home than ever. The last barrier of sectional reserve (if it may be so termed) was broken down, so far as she was concerned; and during the remainder of her stay, her true character—her womanliness, her tenderness, her humor—revealed itself to these watchful and sensitive Southerners. Even Miss Tewksbury, who had the excuse of age and long habit for her prejudices, showed the qualities that made her friends love her. In the language of the little rector, who made a sermon out of the matter, "all things became homogeneous through the medium of sympathy and the knowledge of mutual suffering."