She locked her hands together, making no attempt at an answer. “How exactly like the world,” thought Frithiof to himself. “Here is a girl passionately devoted to these children, while the mother, who never deserved them at all, has utterly deserted them. To have had them for five years and then suddenly to lose them altogether, that is a fearful blow for her; they ought to have thought of it before adopting the children.” “Is there nothing I can do to help you?” he said, turning toward her. “Shall I go and fetch Lance and Gwen?” With an effort she stood up. “No, no,” she said, trying hard to speak cheerfully. “Don’t let this spoil your game. I am better, I will go and find them.” But by a sudden impulse he sprang up, made her take his arm and walked to the house with her. “You are still rather shaky, I think,” he said. “Let me come with you, I can at any rate save you the stairs. How strange it was that you should have known beforehand that this was coming! Did you ever have a presentiment of that kind over anything else?” “Never,” she said. “It was such an awful feeling. I wonder what it is that brings it.” He left her in the hall and ran upstairs to the nursery, where he was always a welcome visitor. Both children rushed to meet him with cries of delight. “Cecil has sent me up with a message to you,” he said. “To say we may come down,” shouted Lance. “Is it that, Herr Frithiof?” “No,” cried Gwen, dancing round him, “it’s to say a holiday for to-morrow, I guess.” “No, not that exactly,” he said; “but your father has come, and Cecil wants you to come down and see him.” The children’s faces fell. It seemed almost as if they instinctively knew of the cloud that hung over their father. They had always known that he would some day come to them; but his name had been little mentioned. It was difficult to mention it without running the risk of the terrible questions which as children they were so likely to ask. All the gladness and spirit seemed to have left them. They were both shy, and the meeting with this unknown parent was a terror to them. They clung to Frithiof as he took them downstairs, and, catching sight of Cecil leaning back in one of the hall chairs, they made a rush for her, and poured out all their childish fears as she clung to them and kissed them with all the tenderness of a real mother. “We don’t want to go and see father,” said Lance stoutly. “We had much rather not.” “But you must think that he wants to see you very much,” said Cecil. “He remembers you quite well, though you have forgotten him; and now that he has come back to you, you must both make him very happy, and love him.” “I don’t like him at all,” said Gwen perversely. “It is silly and wrong to say that,” said Cecil. “You will love him when you see him.” “I love you,” said Gwen, with a vehement hug. “Have you only room for one person in your heart?” “I rather love Herr Frithiof,” said Gwen, glancing up at him through her eyelashes.