“Lay your hand in mine dear,
     Joined thus we need not fear,
     Each the other clasping fast,
     That our union should not last,
     But behold, the fates decree
     That our future severed be. 
     We will cut our verse in two,
     Half for me and half for you. 
     But we still will hope forever
     That the halves may come together,
     And with no loss to deplore. 
     Our friendship be as ’twas before.”

The mother had taken Dora’s hand in hers.  “Where did you get this paper, Dora?” she asked, much moved.

“It has always been in my mother’s album,” replied the child with surprise.

“Then you are my Lili’s child!” cried Mrs. Birkenfeld, “and that is what your eyes always said to me, when I looked into them;” and she folded Dora softly to her heart.

The children were intensely excited, but seeing how much moved their mother was, they restrained themselves, and sat very still, watching Dora and their mother with eager looks.  But little Hunne broke the spell.

“Then I sha’n’t have to go to America, shall I, mamma?” he said gaily, for since he had given his word to go to find the lost Lili, he had often thought with alarm of the long journey that he must take alone.

“No, dear child, we will all stay here together,” said his mother, turning towards the children with Dora’s hand fast in hers; “Dora is the Lili you were to seek, and we have found her.”

“Oh, mamma,” cried Paula, “Dora and I will be what you and her mother were; we will carry out the verses.  We will say: 

    “’But we still will hope forever
     Now the halves have come together
     No farther losses to deplore,
     Our friendship prove as yours before.’”

“Oh yes, and ours,” “me too,” “so will I,” and all the children joined in promising eternal friendship with Dora.  But the mother had taken her husband’s hand and had drawn him away down the shady walk.

“All right, I agree to it all,” said Mr. Birkenfeld over and over again, as his wife talked eagerly, while they walked back and forth.  Presently Mrs. Birkenfeld left him and crossed over to the next house.  She asked for Mrs. Ehrenreich, and now as they sat together by the window, she told Aunt Ninette in words that came from her heart, with what delight she had discovered that Dora was the daughter of her earliest and dearest friend; that friend from whom she had been so long separated, but whose memory was still green in her heart.  She wanted to learn all that could be told of her friend’s life and death, but Aunt Ninette had little to tell.  She had never known Dora’s mother; her brother had spent several years in America where he had married, and his wife had died in Hamburg shortly after Dora’s birth.  That was all she knew.  Then Mrs. Birkenfeld went directly to the point.  She explained to Mrs. Ehrenreich how much she had enjoyed and profited by, her long visits at her friend’s father’s house, and how deeply she felt that she owed these kind friends a debt of gratitude which she now saw an opportunity partly to repay, by doing what she could for Dora.  In short, if Aunt Ninette and her husband would consent, her most fervent wish would be to take Dora and bring her up as her own child.