At noon she awoke of her own accord, wonderfully refreshed morally and physically. Things assumed a new aspect. The very knowledge of her love gave her happiness. One supreme fact remained, in spite of all that had passed—she loved her husband, and he her. It was impossible, she argued, that her conduct of last night could have utterly killed a love as deep as she knew his to be. The only barrier between them was his wounded love and pride, one which she thought she could easily break with her two small hands. Jennings knocked, and whispered that Mrs. Bunker and her father and mother were below. He had told them she was asleep. Did she wish to give any message? "Don’t say anything. I’ll be down in a little while, Jennings." She dismissed him with a reassuring smile and a nod. "Her little leddyship looked so smiling—maybe it’s all come right again," thought Jennings, in delight, as he descended the stairs. "So they’re all there," mused Indiana. "I shall act as if nothing is the matter." She continued the process of dressing, without a maid. A cold bath brought the bloom back to her cheeks. Her eyes were very bright, yet tender. She donned an airy, rose-colored morning-gown, dotted here and there with black velvet bows. Standing at her dressing-table, putting another black velvet bow in the fluffy, yellow puffs of her hair, a sudden misgiving assailed her—that her power to win him back might not be as strong as she imagined. She shivered at the remembrance of his stern, implacable face, when he entered the library that morning. What if he would not retract his words, remaining strong in his determination that they should part? Her face looked piteously back at her from the glass. "Well, I, too, am strong—very strong," she thought, bravely. "I am his wife—and I love him." She bent forward and kissed her face in the mirror. "Good luck to us, Indiana," she said, with a laugh, followed by a rush of tears. "We’ll fight for our happiness—won’t we?" The family were sitting below in the library with Thurston and Lord Stafford. No one, so far, had ventured a remark or asked a question relating to the night before. Mrs. Bunker, finally, tired of discussing matters which did not interest her, and anxious to know something relating to the subject uppermost in all their minds, went to the window, pretending that she wished to see if her hansom was still waiting, well aware Lord Stafford would follow her. "You look charming this morning, Mrs. Bunker," remarked Lord Stafford, gallantly joining her, as she expected, in the window embrasure. "So Indiana is sleeping it off," observed Mrs. Bunker, confidentially. "I am sure I don’t know," answered Lord Stafford, twirling his moustache. "You were with Thurston when we came?" "Yes," said Lord Stafford, indifferently. "Well, he told you?" queried Mrs. Bunker, in an exasperated tone. "Thurston said nothing, and, of course, I couldn’t ask."