last night about what he should say about General Darrah when he made
the presentation of the sketches of the statue out at the opening of the
art exhibition in the Temple of Arts to-night, that made me dream about
Mary Caroline all night. It is all so strange." Again Mrs. Buchanan
paused with a half sob in her voice.

"Why, what is it, Matilda?" the major asked as he turned and looked at
her anxiously.

"It's a wonderful thing that has happened, Major. Something, I don't know
what, just made me go out to the Temple this morning to see the sketches
of the statue which came yesterday. I felt I couldn't wait until to-night
to see them. Oh, they are so lovely! Just a tall fearless woman with a
baby on her breast and a slave woman clinging to her skirts with her own
child in her arms!

"As I stood before the case and looked at them the tragedy of all the
long fight came back to me. I caught my breath and turned away--and there
stood a girl! I knew her instantly, for I was looking straight into Mary
Caroline's own purple eyes. Then I just opened my arms and held her
close, calling Mary Caroline's name over and over. There was no one
else in the great room and it was quiet and solemn and still. Then she
put her hand against my face and looked at me and said in the loveliest
tenderest voice:

"'It's my mother's Matilda, isn't it? I have the old daguerreotype!' And
I smiled back and we kissed each other and cried--and then cried some
more."

"I haven't a doubt of those tears," answered the major in a suspiciously