A sudden turn of circumstances, however, had wrought an equally sudden change in Miss Lyte's plans; and, taking advantage of the opportune escort afforded by a business trip of a friend, she had journeyed southward with such celerity as to outstrip the letter of announcement that she had dispatched, a day before her departure from New York. Reaching home almost immediately after Bergan had gone out for his solitary stroll, she had spent the afternoon in a long, earnest, circumstantial talk with her mother,--discussing her plans and prospects,--throwing off, with careless fluency, vivid picture upon picture of her art life and work in the city,--listening eagerly to interjectional items of home news,--and cheering Mrs. Lyte's heart, through and through, with her bright spirits, her ready, yet healthful, sympathy, and the inspiring energy both of her manner and mind. With the very sight of her, more than half the widow's burden of sorrow and care had slipped unconsciously from her shoulders. Finally, toward sunset, foreseeing an unusual amount of sky-splendor, she had gone forth for a brief enjoyment of it to her old, favorite haunt,--the oak glade which Bergan had also discovered and taken into favor. Meeting the young man there, she had instantly recognized him,--by reason of Nix's suggestive companionship, and her mother's recent description,--and had taken an innocent pleasure in subjecting him to a transient mystification. "She gave us _such_ a surprise," went on Cathie, joyously. "Mamma almost fainted, and I--guess what I did, Mr. Arling." To please her, Bergan guessed what he supposed to be the most unlikely thing; and so, in consequence of the child's peculiar character, he guessed right. "Doubtless, you cried," said he. "So I did," replied Cathie, opening her eyes wide, "though I can't see how you knew it. But I thought I was laughing, all the time, till Astra asked me why I was so sorry to see her, and offered to go away again if the sight of her was so painful!' And _that_ made me laugh, in good earnest! And oh! Mr. Arling, do come and see her little white boy! She has just been unpacking him, to show him to mamma." "Willingly," replied Bergan, "if you are sure that she would like me to see him." "I'll ask her," replied Cathie, darting through the open doorway at the left, whence came the broad beam of light aforementioned, and through which Bergan caught a glimpse of Mrs. Lyte's black-draped figure, seated at the farther corner of the room, in an attitude of pleased contemplation of some object not within his range of vision. The next moment, Miss Lyte herself appeared on the threshold, and, seeing by his face that his mystification was over, she frankly held out her hand to him. "So you have found me out!" said she, laughing. "Was it wicked in me not to answer that look in your eyes, which said so plainly, 'Who on earth _can_ she be?' Can you pardon my selfish enjoyment of your perplexity?"