“Well, no. I asked him, but he only said it was not far off; it was nearer than I thought; but he said he couldn’t tell me any more about it because he wanted to give me a happy surprise. And—well, I really think he has been building a beautiful house while I have been here. I know I shall get perfectly well again, because your father says so, and I have such faith in his judgment. Where are the young ladies?” she next inquired. “They have gone into the drawing-room, mother.” “Well, then, dear, go and make yourself agreeable to them. I shall take a nap. I always do after dinner. You can come to me again when I wake.” “Let me stay until you fall asleep, mother. I will not disturb you. Will you lie down?” “No, dear; just lean back and close my eyes. I sleep best in my chair in the daytime,” she answered, as she composed herself for her nap. Harcourt watched her until she fell asleep. He was anxious to observe her in that state. He saw that she slept calmly, and breathed easily; and then he stole out of the room, found Martha, sent her to stay with her mistress, and then joined the ladies. Mrs. Wynthrop would not hear of Harcourt leaving the lodge to take up his abode at the cabin, but insisted that he should occupy a spare room just over the parlor chamber tenanted by his mother. From the day of his arrival at Lone Lodge poor Will Harcourt began to improve in health. Two of the heaviest burdens on his heart were lifted. Roma had escaped unharmed from Hanson. His mother was happy, comfortable and well cared for. She would never know the black cloud that overshadowed his own future. Those two beloved ones, to save whom from shame and despair he had been driven to do that “deed without a name,” were, at least, safe from injury. As for himself, he knew that he had never intended to commit a crime; that so far as he was concerned the death of Yelverton was, indeed, a mere accident, yet none the less did it weigh so heavily on his conscience that he felt the only relief for him would be to give himself up to justice and let the law have its will of him. And this he would do so soon as he could do it without wounding others, when his mother would be safe in her heavenly home, when Roma would learn the whole bitter truth and understand and forgive him; then he could face the consequences of his crime and bear the doom of death or the penal servitude that the law would deal out to him, better, much better, than he had borne the weight of a guilty conscience. So, having settled his plans for the future, and living now for a few days in such an atmosphere of peace, love and light, his health improved and his spirits rose—yes, even against his will and his conscience, his spirits rose—and he was strangely comforted. His mother noticed his improvement, and expressed her delight.