Gently and with infinite tenderness he lifted the girl as though she were a baby and carried her lightly up the broad oak staircase, Priscilla leading the way--and soon they brought her into her own room, unchanged since she had occupied it, and kept by Priscilla's loving and half superstitious care ready for her return at any moment. Laying her down on her little bed, Robin left her, though hardly able to tear himself away, and going downstairs again he flung himself into a chair and wept like a child for the ruin and wreck of the fair young life which might have been the joy and sunshine of his days! "Amadis de Jocelyn!" he muttered--"A curse on him! Why should the founder of this house bring evil on us?--Rising up like a ghost to overshadow us and spoil our happiness?--Let the house perish and all its traditions if it must be so, rather than that she should suffer!--for she is innocent!" Yes--she was quite innocent,--the little "base-born" intruder on the unbroken line and history of the Jocelyns!--and yet--it was with a kind of horror that the memory of that unbroken line and history recurred to him. Was there--could there be anything real in the long prevalent idea that if the direct line of the Jocelyns were broken, the peace and prosperity so long attendant on the old farm would be at an end? He put the thought away with a sense of anger. "No, no! She could only bring joy wherever she went--no matter who her parents were, or how she was born, my poor little one!--she has suffered for no fault at all of her own!" He listened to the dying clamour of the storm--the wind still careered round the house, making a noise like the beating wings of a great bird, but the rain was ceasing and there was a deeper sense of quiet. An approaching step startled him--he looked up and saw Priscilla. She smiled encouragingly. "Cheer up, Mister Robin!" she said. ... "She is much better--she knows where she is now, bless her heart!--and she's glad to be at home. Let her alone--and if she 'as a good sleep she'll be a'most herself again in the morning. I'll leave my bedroom door open all night--an' I'll be lookin' in at 'er when she doesn't know it, watchin' her lovin' like for all I'm worth! ... so don't ye worry, my lad!--there's a good God in Heaven an' it'll all come right!" Robin took her rough work-worn hands and clasped them in his own. "Bless you, you dear woman!" he said, huskily. "Do you really think so? Will she be herself again?--our own dear little Innocent?" "Of course she will!" and Priscilla blinked away the tears in her eyes--"An' you'll mebbe win 'er yet!--The Lord's ways are ever wonderful an' past findin' out--" A clear voice calling from the staircase interrupted them. "Priscilla! Robin!" Running to answer the summons, they saw Innocent at the top of the stairs, a little vision of pale, smiling sweetness, in her white wool wrapper--her hair falling loose over her shoulders. She kissed her hands to them.