“I am going,” said Reine; “please forgive me, Nell, for spoiling your sleep.”

“Don’t mention it.  We can talk all the rest in the morning.  If you are allowed to go on any more now, you will be mad to-morrow, and, what is worse, you will have a cold in your head.”

Nell curled herself up in her pillows again, and was soon fast asleep.  But Reine could not sleep; and came down to breakfast next morning looking as pale as a ghost.

After Mr. Enderby had gone to his study Nell began: 

“Mamma, do you know Reine has got a bee in her bonnet!”

“My dear, where did you get such an expression?”

“Never mind.  It is quite accurate.  She believes that Hetty is her sister who was drowned when she was a baby.”

Mrs. Enderby looked at Reine with a face of extreme surprise.

“Nell talks so much nonsense,” she said, “that I scarcely know what to think of her speeches sometimes.”  And then seeing Reine’s eyes full of tears, she added kindly: 

“Dear child, is there any grain of truth in what this wild little scatter-brain has said?”

Reine burst into tears.

“Don’t mind me, Mrs. Enderby, please; I have been awake all night, and I don’t feel like myself.  It is only that Hetty Gray is so—­so distressingly like my mother.  And Nell says she was found on the sea-shore after a storm and wrecks.  And it is fourteen years ago.  And that is the very time when our vessel was wrecked, and my father and mother believed that our baby was drowned.  Oh, Mrs. Enderby, only think!  Is it not enough to turn my head?”

“It is a very remarkable coincidence at least,” said Mrs. Enderby; “but, dear Reine, try to compose your thoughts.  You must not jump too hastily at conclusions.  At the end of fourteen years it will be very difficult to find evidence to prove or disprove what you imagine may be true.”

Reine shook her head.  “I have thought of that; I have thought of it all night.”

“In the first place, are you quite sure about the dates?”

“Quite, on my own side.  I have a little New Testament in which my father wrote down, the day after our rescue, the date of the wreck and a record of the baby’s death.”

“We must send for Mrs. Kane,” said Mrs. Enderby; “and hear what she has to say before we allow our imaginations to run away with us.”

“And oh, Mrs. Enderby,—­if you saw the likeness of my mother at just Hetty’s age!  May I telegraph for it at once—­to let you see it?”

“Certainly, my dear; for it and that copy of the Testament.  But not a word to Hetty.  It would be cruel to run the risk of subjecting her to a heavy disappointment”

The telegram was sent; and Mrs. Kane appeared, wondering greatly why she was wanted at the Hall in such a hurry.

“Now, Mrs. Kane,” said Mrs. Enderby, “here is a young lady who is greatly interested in the story of the finding of Hetty Gray on the Long Sands by your husband, and I have promised she shall hear of it from your own lips.”