"They are, oh, so willing to be pampered in luxury; and, oh, so willing to fly to the other extreme, and do without things." "Are they really ?" said John, rather dryly.
He glanced at the little, soft, white hand he held, and smiled.

It looked so unfitted to help itself.
Lady Mary was resting in her armchair, her delicate face still flushed with emotion.

A transparent purple shade beneath the blue eyes betrayed that she had been weeping; but she was calmed by John's strong and tranquil presence.

The shady room was cool and fragrant with the scent of heliotrope and mignonette.
The band had reached a level plateau below the terrace garden, and was playing martial airs to encourage stragglers in the procession, and to give the principal inhabitants of Youlestone time to arrive, and to regain their wind after the steep ascent.
Every time a batch of new arrivals recognized Peter's tall form on the terrace, a fresh burst of cheering rose.
From all sides of the valley, hurrying figures could be seen approaching Barracombe House.
The noise and confusion without seemed to increase the sense of quiet within, and the sounds of the gathering crowd made them feel apart and alone together as they had never felt before.
"So all our dreams are to be shattered," said John, quietly, "because your prayer has been granted, and Peter has come home ?" "If you could have heard all he said," she whispered sadly.

"He has come home loving me, trusting me, dependent on me, as he has never been before, since his babyhood.