"But there shall be no more secrets in my life," she thought as she heard his step on the stairs outside, and perhaps at the bottom of her heart there lurked a superstitious hope that Nemesis had heard her promise and accepted it as an atonement. The next minute she was in her husband’s arms, and Nemesis, conscience, Robert Arnold, and all the petty trials of the day were forgotten, overwhelmed by a passionate joy which filled her heart and the dusky room with sunshine. "Why, Nora!" he exclaimed. "You are like a little hobgoblin, springing at one out of the shadows. What have you been doing all alone in the dark?" "Dreaming—and waiting for you," she answered gaily. "Wait a moment till I have lit the lamp. I had forgotten that weary warriors do not care for the dim religious light which goes with dreaming." He sank down into his chair with a tired sigh of contentment and watched her as she busied about the room, putting away his gloves and the officer’s cap which he had thrown upon the table. There was no trace of depression in her face, nor, indeed, in her heart—only an almost childish happiness, and gradually the lines of worry and exhaustion faded from about the man’s strong mouth. "How good it is to come home, Nora!" he said under his breath. "When I think of how I used to feel after a long day’s work—why, I can’t imagine how I existed." "Do I make all the difference?" "All the difference, my little wife." She came and kissed him, and then stood looking down into his face with tender concern. "You look so tired. Has anything been worrying you?" "No, nothing—only the head-work is rather a strain. One has to give mind and soul to it; there is no slacking possible, even if one were inclined that way." "Which you are not, you terrible man of iron and blood! Sometimes I am quite jealous of your work: I believe you love it more than you do me." "It is my duty," he answered gravely. And then, after a moment, he added in a lighter tone, "By the way, an old friend of yours has arrived in Berlin." Nora started. "Who?" "Bauer!" She was conscious of a sensation of relief as reasonless as it was acute. Of what had she been afraid? She herself could not have told. "I used to look upon that man as my evil genius," she said gaily, "but now I think he must have been sent as an angel in disguise. If it had not been for him I should not have known you loved me—do you remember—that day, in the forest?" "I am never likely to forget," he answered, with a sudden movement of pain. "When I think what might have happened to you——" "You mustn’t think. Nothing _did_ happen to me—or only something nice. But now you must listen to my news. Imagine what I have done to-day?" "Nora, is that fair? Do you really expect my exhausted brains to tackle a problem like that!"