"
"Now," said Mrs. Trent, "will you describe the cradle?"
"Very well," said the man, "it was made of pine wood. The body was
painted blue and it had a red canopy."
Mr. and Mrs. Trent looked deeply into the old man's eyes, and found in
his face, looking through the wrinkles which deep sorrow and care had
chiseled there, a remarkable resemblance to their adopted son.
"I have no further doubt," said Mr. Trent, "that the son who thirteen
years ago, as a tender babe, floated in its cradle down the Rhine, was
saved from the flood, and lives today."
"How, what?" cried the man in joyful astonishment. "Oh, where is he?
Where is he? Lead me to him at once."
"You have already seen him," said Mr. Trent. "The young man who brought
you here is your son."
"What?" cried the old man, "that handsome young lad. Could it he
possible? Oh, how miraculous!" He folded his hands and stood in silence,
till his overwrought feelings broke forth in a torrent of tears. At last
he said: "How was he saved? How did he reach this house and these good
circumstances?"
Mr. Trent related everything in a few words: how the faithfulness of the
dog had been the first means toward the rescue of the infant. "We took
your child, adopted him and brought him up. He always behaved well and
has given us great joy. As we did not know his name, we had him renamed
Daniel. We never let him know that he was not our own child. We must now
disclose this fact to him. I hear him coming and will ask you to
withdraw to the next room until you recover yourself.
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