Bob relaxed his tension. The afternoon was moving on with more serenity than he had dared hope, and inwardly he began to congratulate himself on the success of it. To judge from appearance every one was in the serenest frame of mind. Willie was beaming into his host's face, and both men were laughing immoderately; Celestina, from the snatches of conversation that reached him, was relating for Mrs. Galbraith's benefit the symptoms of her late illness; and Madam Lee was chatting with Delight as with an old-time friend. Bob longed to join them, but prudence forbade his leaving Cynthia's side. Moreover he suspected the tete-a-tete was of the old lady's arranging and he dared not break in on it. If Madam Lee desired his presence, she was quite capable of commanding it by one of those characteristically imperious waves of her hand. But she did not summon him. Instead she sat with her keen little eyes fixed on the girl opposite as if fascinated by her beauty. Once Bob heard her ask Delight of the Brewsters and caught fragments that indicated they were talking of the child's early life in the village. It was Celestina who at length broke in on the conversation. "I guess we must be thinkin' of goin', Delight, don't you? We have a long ride back, you know." "Delight!" echoed Madam Lee, repeating the word with surprise. "A queer name, ain't it?" Celestina put in. "So old-fashioned an' uncommon! When the child first come here folks couldn't believe but 'twas a pet name her dad had given her; but the little thing insisted 'twas what she was christened." "Father said I was named for my mother and my grandmother, Delight Lee." There was a gasp from the stately old lady in the chair. With convulsive grasp she caught and held the girl's wrist. "Your father was Ralph Hathaway?" "Yes," was the wondering reply. "How did you know?" No answer came. "Mother!" cried Mrs. Galbraith, coming swiftly to her side and bending over the form crumpled against the pillows. Her face, too, was pale, and even Mr. Galbraith looked startled. "Don't take on so, mother," her daughter whispered. "Control yourself if you can. There may be some mistake. It is unlikely that--" "There is no mistake," came in a hollow voice from the woman huddled in the chair, who regarded Delight with frightened eyes. "She is my daughter's child, sent by the mercy of heaven that I might make amends before I went down into the grave." Tense silence followed the assertion. "Did your father never tell you anything, my dear, of his marriage?" went on Madam Lee in a tone that although firmer still trembled. "No." "Then I can tell you--I, who drove your mother from my house when she refused to wed a man she did not love." Delight's great eyes widened with wonder.