"Captain Goldwin accompanied his regiment to India when I was fourteen years old, and there Agatha was born. My father had no income but his pay, and his expenses being necessarily great, he found himself unable to send me to England for education, so I grew up without any except what he was able to give me in the intervals of military duty, and what I got from the resident chaplain. Still I had a great fondness for study, and employed my time to pretty good purpose."
"I was eighteen years old when my uncle came to India, partly on business and partly to visit his sister. He proposed to my father that I should return with him to America, finish my studies at one of the colleges in New England, and then, if it were thought desirable, return to India. The offer was a very advantageous one to me, and my father allowed me to accept it. Before I left, my mother gave me the miniatures I have just showed Agatha, and I have never parted from them."
"In the course of two or three years, I heard of the death of my father, who fell in battle, as Agatha told us, and learned that my mother had set out for England, intending to come to her friends in America. Hearing nothing more for a long time, I wrote to my aunt in London. Her husband answered the letter, saying that my mother died before reaching England; that he had sent the child—meaning Agatha—to her friends in America, under such and such an escort, and supposed she had reached her destination."
"I went at once to New York and made every inquiry, but my efforts resulted only in disappointment. At last I learned that the cholera had broken out in the ship and that a great many of the passengers had died,—among them a woman named Jones and her little girl. This account seemed to render the matter hopeless, and I gave up all further inquiries. Agatha's face interested me at once from her resemblance to my mother, but supposing, as I did, that my sister was dead long ago, I should not have pursued the matter had not her story awakened my long dead hopes."
"The mention of the dead tiger struck me like an electric shock, for I remembered the incident directly and how hard I had begged to be allowed to go with the party that killed him. He was a famous man-eater, as they are called—that is to say a tiger which, having acquired an appetite for human flesh, will eat no other. Such animals are frequently found in the neighborhood of East Indian villages, a great terror and pest to the inhabitants, and, in this case, the officers stationed near had made a hunting party to kill him. As Agatha went on, I felt certain that she must be my lost sister, and her instant recognition of the miniatures would have confirmed me, had I by that time entertained any doubt. My great desire is now to see Dr. Bower and thank him for his kind care of my little darling."
"It grows late," remarked the squire, after a little pause, and looking at his watch. "We have had a very pleasant evening and it has come to a most happy conclusion. We will now have prayers, if the good doctor will be so kind as to read them."
