“Oh, mother, mother,” she murmured, clinging to her as if she could never let her go, “I knew you would come. I knew it. I never gave up hope, in all these years I never did. Let me look at you, my own mother, to be very sure.” She looked very worn and much, very much, older, this dear mother, but the general appearance was the same. The two stood gazing at each other, lost to all else. Madame Du Bois’s abundant hair had grown thinner and showed streaks of gray. She was very thin, and the happy, buoyant expression she had always worn had given place to an expression of patient sadness. “You have changed, my little Lucie,” she said. “My little girl is gone and here is one almost a young lady in her place.” “No, no, _maman_, I am still your little girl. I may have grown but my heart is still as you left it.” They clung and kissed again as if this were the sum of all desire. After a while the young Frenchman spoke up. “Have you yet no word of greeting for an old friend, Lucie?” he asked. She disengaged herself from her mother’s embrace to turn to him. “Victor!” she exclaimed, and held out both her hands. “This is wonderful, wonderful beyond words! And my uncle too. It is like a miracle, a vision, that you all three should appear at the same moment.” Here Paulette came running out, gesticulating, crying, uttering disconnected words. “Madame, it is my dear madame! It is not then a shadow that I see, a spirit. Madame, if I but may embrace you, this Paulette who has never ceased to mourn for you.” “My good Paulette, dear Paulette, that I should find you here so faithfully guarding my Lucie,” returned Madame Du Bois, kissing the good woman on each cheek. “I have heard, oh, yes, they have told me of your faithfulness, your care of my little child, for which I can never thank you enough.” “And Odette, you must know her,” declared Lucie. “Oh, there is so much to tell. It will take years, years, to say it all.” Odette, who had been keeping in the background, was brought forward, then Madame Du Bois caught sight of Pom Pom who was sniffing around trying to make up his mind if he should dash out the gate and bark or keep a respectful distance. “Pom Pom, you still have Pom Pom,” exclaimed Madame Du Bois. At this instant Victor whistled, and unheeding gates and bars Pom Pom made a frantic effort, leaped over the gate and flew to his master, fawning at his feet and whimpering with joy. “He at least is glad to see me,” said Victor. “Oh, but Victor,” Lucie turned to him, “I am glad to see you, and I am so grieved to see that you have been wounded. Tell me when and how.” “That will keep,” returned he. “All I want is the assurance that you are glad to see me, even though I am not all here.” They all went in to learn of the many, many things which had befallen each one since their parting. “And where have you been, darling mother, all this time?” was Lucie’s first question.