“Your grand-parents did suppose your uncle a soldier,” I remarked, “but, after the man was seen the mistake was discovered, and now the truth has come out in a way that will admit of no dispute.”

“How is uncle named?” demanded the niece, in a low voice, and a hesitating manner.  “Mother’s brother was christened Oloff, I have heard grandmother say.”

“Very true, dear; we’ve been all over that, the old lady and I. They tell me, too, I was christened by the name of Moses—­I suppose you know who Moses was, child?”

“To be sure, uncle!” said Kitty, with a little laugh of surprise.  “He was the great law-maker of the Jews.”

“Ha, Miles, is that so?”

I nodded assent.

“And do you know about his being found in the bulrushes, and the story of the king of Ethiopia’s daughter?”

“The king of Egypt, you mean, do you not, uncle Oloff?” cried Kitty, with another little laugh.

“Well, Ethiopia or Egypt; it’s all pretty much the same—­this girl has been wonderfully edicated, Miles, and will turn out famous company for me, in the long winter evenings, some twenty years hence, or when I’ve worked my way up into the latitude of the dear, good, old soul under the hill yonder.”

A slight exclamation from Kitty was followed by a blush, and a change of expression, that showed she was thinking, just at that moment, of anything but uncle Oloff.  I asked an explanation.

“It’s only Horace Bright, out yonder in the orchard, looking at us.  He will be puzzled to know who is with me, here, in the old chaise.  Horace thinks he can drive a horse better than any one about here, so you must be careful how you hold the reins, or use the whip.—­Horace!”

This boded no good to Marble’s plans for passing the evenings of his old age with Kitty to amuse him; but, as we were now on the brow of the hill, with the cottage in sight, Horace Bright was soon lost to view.  To do the girl justice, she appeared now to think only of her grandmother, and of the effects the recent discovery of her son would be likely to produce on one of her years and infirmities.  As for myself, I was surprised to see Mr. Hardinge in earnest conversation with old Mrs. Wetmore, both seated on the stoop of the cottage, in the mild summer’s evening, and Lucy walking, to and fro, on the short grass of the willow bottom, with an impatience and restlessness of manner it was very unusual for her to exhibit.  No sooner was Kitty alighted, than she ran to her grandmother, Marble following, while I hastened to the point where was to be found the great object of my interest.  Lucy’s face was full of feeling and concern, and she received me with an extended hand that, gracious as was the act itself, and most grateful as it would have proved to me under other circumstances, I now feared boded no good.

“Miles, you have been absent an age!” Lucy commenced.  “I should be disposed to reproach you, had not the extraordinary story of this good old woman explained it all.  I feel the want of air and exercise; give me your arm, and we will walk a short distance up the road.  My dear father will not be inclined to quit that happy family, so long as any light is left.”