She half rose, intending to seek Dr. Gay, but he appeared at the door, and shutting it close, approached her with a manifest tremor of apprehension. "My wife has told you that I have something strange to say to you," began the little doctor, seizing her hand and pressing it closely. "I would like you to endeavor to form some conception of it before I startle you with it." She was watching him with a wondering eye. His perturbation, his anxiety, his eagerness amazed her--she had never seen the mild little man so violently agitated. "I can form no conception of your meaning," said she; "be so kind as to explain it in a word." "My dear girl, we've made a queer mistake, that's all," faltered he, smoothing her hand anxiously. "Now, do you think over every possibility, and pick out the most unlikely--I don't want to startle you." "Nothing can startle me now that St. Udo Brand is----" She stopped abruptly and gazed fixedly in his face where yet lingered the traces of a serious shock; and her great gray eyes grew black as midnight while her cheeks flashed forth a splendid carmine. "You don't intend to say that he is not dead?" cried she, sharply. The doctor continued smoothing her hand; she snatched it away and clasped both in an access of emotion. "Tell me--tell me!" screamed Margaret wildly. "St. Udo has come back, sure enough," said the doctor, putting his arm about her and trying to soothe her. "St. Udo Brand came home to-day and walked straight into Davenport's office." Her great eyes drank in the assurance in his face, her parted lips quivered into almost a wild smile of triumph, and she clung to the little doctor, crying out: "St. Udo is not dead--not dead! Oh, my heart, he is not dead!" And then she sank on her chair and lifted her sparkling eyes, as it were, to Heaven, and whispered: "Thank Heaven! thank Heaven! Oh, I can never grieve again." "Come, that's a right pleasant way of taking it," cried the doctor, quite charmed. "I was so afraid that you would take up the old hatred as soon as he came back to dispute the will with you, especially as he was thought to be so well out of the way." "Hush," smiled Margaret, with the same glad radiance. "I can think of nothing just now except my gratitude to Providence for giving him back to us instead of branding me with the mark of Cain. Poor, erring, noble St. Udo! I shall never cross his will again. He shall learn to-night how guiltless Margaret Walsingham was of his disappointment. Now I can sign away the Brand property, although the year is not out, and St. Udo Brand shall have it all." She rattled on thus like a happy child. Her stern will was melted to tenderness, her timid nature was forgotten in joyful excitement. Had he been the chosen of her heart she could not have welcomed him with wilder rapture than this.