It seemed to Dominey that he had never seen anything more pathetic than that eager glance, half of hope, half of apprehension, flashed upon him from the strange, tired eyes of the woman who was standing before the log fire in a little recess of the main hall.

By her side stood a pleasant, friendly looking person in the uniform of a nurse; a yard or two behind, a maid carrying a jewel case.

Rosamund, who had thrown back her veil, had been standing with her foot upon the fender.

Her whole expression changed as Dominey came hastily towards her with outstretched hands.
"My dear child," he exclaimed, "welcome home!" "Welcome ?" she repeated, with a glad catch in her throat.

"You mean it ?" With a self-control of which he gave no sign, he touched the lips which were raised so eagerly to his as tenderly and reverently as though this were some strange child committed to his care.
"Of course I mean it," he answered heartily.