"To-night, usually," she returned with a sigh. A sudden flush rose to her cheek, rendering her face still more lovely while it lasted, but leaving her paler than ever when it had gone. "Still wandering," said her uncle sadly; "surely, by now, Adrien ought to have forgotten the past." "He'll never come back until he does," said Lady Constance softly. "No," said her uncle, with a touch of pride. "He will not come back until he can take up a worthier life with a worthy love, Constance. Ring the bell, my dear, and inquire for the mail." She obeyed him and returned to the fire again, placing her hand upon the old man's shoulder. Very beautiful she looked, as the bright gleam of the firelight illumined her face, more lovely now because of its tender, womanly expression; and the old man's gaze rested lovingly on her. "When he comes back," he said musingly, "Adrien will find a sweet prize. He loves you, and his love will increase and endure." Almost before he had finished speaking there came the sound of footsteps, and the door opened. The girl barely turned. "Has the mail come in?" she asked, thinking it was a servant. But there was no answer. The footsteps came nearer, and some one bent down over the old man's chair. "Father!" exclaimed a manly voice. Lady Constance uttered a low cry, and Lord Barminster sprang to his feet exclaiming. "Adrien, my boy!" "Yes, father, it is I," said Leroy, his voice hoarse with emotion. Then he turned to Constance, who was gazing at him with tears of joy in her eyes. "Constance, my darling," he said gently. "Will you forgive me my long neglect of you? My eyes have seen you through all the darkness of these weary months. I have hungered for you all the time, and now I have come into the light, I want you for my own." As he spoke he drew her unresistingly within his arms, and the old man, with one loving backward look, stole silently away to apprise Miss Penelope of the joyful news. A month later the church of Windleham was all ablaze with winter flowers, while crowds of happy, rosy-cheeked children thronged the steps and porch, for it was the marriage day of Lady Constance Tremaine and Adrien Leroy. There were no fashionable silk and satin-clad guests, or a body of mighty ecclesiastics to perform the ceremony. The old rector, who had known them both from childhood, made them man and wife, while Lord Barminster gave the bride away. She had chosen to be but simply dressed, and followed only by two bridesmaids--sisters of Mortimer Shelton, who acted as best man. Among the few guests there, were also Lord Standon and Lady Muriel Branton, soon now to be wedded themselves. Adrien had explained the reason for his anger long ago, and Lord Standon too fully understood to continue the coldness which had nearly spoilt their life-long friendship. Happy was the bride, that bright winter morning, and Adrien, as he felt her loved arm against his side, was filled gratitude and love.