But Tom Drake had remained in the background while all others went forward to tender their good wishes and congratulations, and it was not until Earle asked particularly for him that he ventured to present himself before those two, whose lives he had done so much to render miserable. Then he came modestly forward, bearing a magnificent bouquet and wreath in his hand. The former composed entirely of box, white bell-flowers, and blue violets, and embodying the sentiments, constancy, gratitude, and faithfulness, he placed in Earle’s hand, wishing him “long life and happiness.” The wreath, a marvel of delicate beauty, was made of the finest leaves of yew tree and graceful clusters of pure white wisteria, the leaves signifying sorrow for the past, the flowers “Welcome, fair stranger.” This Tom Drake laid at the feet of Editha, with a few murmured words of greeting, made a low obeisance, and then went away. Both Earle and his wife were surprised at this manifestation of feeling, and the delicate manner in which it was expressed; and they prized these simple offerings as highly as any of the rich gifts that they had received from their numerous wealthy friends, on account of the emotions which had prompted them and which they had been quick to read and appreciate. Earle was so pleased with his work upon the tangled accounts, and the interest he manifested in things generally, that he allowed him in the future to assist the steward, who was quite old, and, upon the death of that individual, which occurred about two years after their return, Tom was so well versed in all his duties, and had proved himself so faithful and trustworthy, that he elected him as his successor. He had lost very much of the ruffian-like appearance that had made him so repulsive to Editha, and was now very quiet and unostentatious in his manner. The unsightly scar, of course, still remained upon his face, but his expression told of a firm resolve to conquer himself and become the man that Earle desired. He was lame in the limb that had been wounded, and probably always would be, but Earle never looks at him without a thrill of thankfulness that he was impressed to pursue the course that he has with him, and believes him to be a lasting monument to the power of kindness. Tom and his mother live in a pretty cottage, covered with climbing woodbine and clematis, and situated only a short distance from the mansion. Both mother and son idolize my lady, who is kind and gracious to them, and old Mrs. Drake is often seen, as to-day, caring for Earle’s noble boy, “the like of which,” she fondly declares, “was never born before.” Editha arose as Earle approached, the smile upon her lips and the tender light in her eyes bespeaking the glad welcome in her heart. “You are late, dear,” she said, slipping her white hand within his arm. “A little; but you have plenty of pleasant company,” Earle replied, with a smile, as his eyes wandered over the group.