the orphan, and she shaded her eyes; but the next instant Mr. Murray
rose from a sofa near the window, and advanced a step or two, taking
the cigar from his lips.

"Come to the window and take a seat."

He pointed to the sofa; but she shook her head, and said quickly:

"I have something which belongs to you, Mr. Murray, which I think
you must value very much, and therefore I wanted to see it safe in
your own hands."

Without raising her eyes she held the book toward him.

"What is it?"

He took it mechanically, and with his gaze fixed on the girl's face;
but as she made no reply, he glanced down at it, and his stern,
swarthy face lighted up joyfully.

"Is it possible? my Dante! my lost Dante! The copy that has
travelled round the world in my pocket, and that I lost a year ago,
somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee! Girl, where did you get
it?"

"I found it where you left it--on the grass near a blacksmith's
shop."

"A blacksmith's shop! where?"