It was a surprise to his servants when that same day Sir Ronald walked from the hall with a bright face, his head erect and cheerful words on his lips. They had not seen him so for many a long month; it was as though he had arisen from the dead. He walked through the long, closed, desolate rooms, where silence and desolation had reigned so long. “It will be so bright,” he thought, “when I can bring my darling home. Aldenmere will be like the Garden of Eden then.” “There is a change,” said one servant to another. “His sorrow has fallen from him like a dark garment. Thank Heaven, he is not going to spend his whole life in mourning over a dead wife! We may hear the joy-bells ring at Aldenmere once more.” And one day, to their greater surprise, he ordered his horse to be saddled and rode away. “I never thought,” said the head groom, “to saddle a horse for my master again. I am thankful to see this day.” So, leaving rejoicing hearts behind him, Ronald rode on through the blossoming limes and the tall magnolia trees, through woodland shade and by the river side, until he reached Leeholme Park--the place he had never ceased to see in his dreams, and had never dared to enter again. The lime blossoms wooed him to enter the park; the birds were singing sweetest invitations to him from the trees. Was it in sheer mockery that he stood there, his hat raised, his head bent and the words of a prayer on his lips? What was he promising? “I will try to merit it, my God! I will lavish money on those who need it. I will build churches, endow schools far and wide. I will seek objects for charity. I will be a just, a faithful steward, only give Thou to me that which my heart desires and craves for!” It did not enter the mind of the man who stood among the tufted limes with summer beauty and fragrance floating round him, that the great God does as He will, that no man may say to Him, “Give me this and I will do right; withhold it and I do wrong.” All his life long he had coveted one good. Let God give him that, and he would be a just steward. Let God withhold it and he would shut himself up in solitude, wasting the rich life and the countless gifts that had been given to him. As he drew near the stately home, where his white dove, as his heart called her, dwelt, he grew nervous and confused. What if the welcome he received were a cold one? What if Lord and Lady Lorriston resented his conduct? Perhaps the best and most straightforward plan would be to see them first. He saw the rose garden where, on that night, now so long ago, he had kissed the only face he had ever loved. Then he entered once again the doors where he had been so long a stranger; he read surprise even in the faces of the well-trained servants, when he asked for the earl and countess. Perhaps Lord Lorriston had never felt more surprised in his life than when Sir Ronald Alden was shown into the study. Sir Ronald stood bravely before him.