The water dropped from the Honourable Isabella's eyes, and the stone was her sister, who invited the happy pair down to Hampton Court to spend a few days at the Palace, where the Honourable Isabella's heart would flutter and her hands shake, but all in a very innocent way, for her love for Marcus Glen had become subdued to one of a very motherly kind, even as another love was dead and buried in the past. There was a change at the house in Wimpole Street. First one window used to have the shutters unclosed, then another and another; and at last it was noticed that the windows were cleaned. By the time John Huish had quite recovered from his injury, the place, though still suffering greatly from the want of paint, was so altered that, when the cab which had brought the convalescent and his young wife from the Waterloo Station, stopped, Huish had stared and told the driver to go on. "This here's the number, sir," said the man sturdily; and so it proved, for just then Vidler opened the door, and they entered a house they hardly seemed to know. There were voices, too, as well as an abundance of light in the house; and when the young couple, whose coming was expected, entered the drawing-room, it was to find quite a party assembled. John Huish stopped short to gaze in wonderment, as Gertrude left his side, and ran forward to embrace a little thin old man, so grey and blanched that he looked almost ghostly as his white hands trembled over Gertrude and then were placed upon her head as she laid it against his breast. The young man's eyes turned sharply then to the panel in the wall, to see that it was closed and painted over. "I'm very glad to see you, John Huish," said a familiar voice, though, the next moment, as Gertrude rose to embrace her father, and the little white, bent old man stood up to limp painfully two or three steps to grasp both his hands. John Huish could not speak, knowing what he did; and, pale and flushed by turns, he stood grasping the old man's hands and thinking of how his father had robbed him of his love, almost of his life. "My dear John," he said, "you have taken my darling, and, as I have looked upon her always as my child, why, you must be my son. God bless you! The past is dead." The End.