Mr. Bradley heaved a deep sigh, which was echoed softly by all present, and the stranger looked from one to another, with a hasty glance, and then turned his gaze upon the fire.
"May I ask, sir, if you have any person whom you regard in the army—any relative?"
"Alas! I have—perhaps, I ought to say I had a son. I know not, however, where he is gone."
"Oh! a runaway; I see."
"Oh, no; he left because there were some family differences, and now, I would, that he were once more here."
"Oh!" said the stranger, softly, "differences and mistakes will happen now and then, when least desired."
At this moment, an old hound who had lain beside Ellen Mowbray, she who wore the coal-black tresses, lifted his head at the difference in sound that was noticed in the stranger's voice. He got up and slowly walked up to him, and began to smell around him, and, in another moment, he rushed at him with a cry of joy, and began to lick and caress him in the most extravagant manner. This was followed by a cry of joy in all present.
"It is Henry!" exclaimed Ellen Mowbray, rising and rushing into his arms.
It was Henry, and he threw off the several coats he had on, as well as the large beard he wore to disguise himself.
The meeting was a happy one; there was not a more joyful house than that within many miles around. Henry was restored to the arms of those who loved him, and, in a month, a wedding was celebrated between him and his cousin Ellen.