Her voice was like music to my heart. With Jessie on one side of me, and my mother on the other, there was not a cloud on my life, nor room for one. I sat between them, now patting my mother's hand, now turning restlessly to Jessie, and looking at her in delight. But the change in the aspect of things was so sudden and unexpected, that it would not have much amazed me to see Jessie melt into thin air. This must have been expressed in my face, for Jessie, who was a skilful interpreter of expression, whispered, 'It is true; I have really come back.' 'I was doubting,' I said, in a similar low tone, 'whether I was asleep or awake.' 'Don't speak loud,' she said mockingly, 'don't look at me too hard, and don't blow on me, or you will find that you're only dreaming. Shall I pinch you?' 'No; I am awake, I know. This is the most famous thing that ever happened.' 'You were sorry when I went away, then?' 'I can't tell you how sorry; but you are not going away again?' 'I suppose not; I have no place to go to.' There was a change in her manner; she was more thoughtful and sedate than usual, and her face was pale; but I noted these signs only in a casual way. To be certain that everything was right, I went out of the room to see if her box had been brought back. It was in its old place in my mother's bedroom. My mother had followed me. 'So you are happy again, my dear,' she said, as we stood, like lovers, with our arms around each other's waist. 'I _am_ glad, mother,' I replied, pressing her fondly to me; 'and so are you too, I know. But tell me how it all happened.' 'There is very little to tell, dear child. I was as surprised as you were. I was having tea when your uncle and Jessie came in suddenly; it gave me quite a turn, for Jessie, as you see, is in mourning.' (I had not noticed it, and I wondered at my blindness.) 'Your uncle looked worn and anxious, and they were both very tired, as if they had come a long distance. "I have not quite deserted you, you see," your uncle said. I told him how glad I was he had returned, and how anxious we had been about him. "And Jessie, too," I said. "I was afraid I was not to see her again." "You will see a great deal of her for the future," said your uncle; "she will live with us now. She must sleep with you, as there is no other room in the house for her." And that is positively all I have to tell, Chris, except that Jessie has been very quiet all the evening, and only showed her old spirits when your knock was heard at the street-door.' 'And Jessie has told you nothing, mother?' 'Nothing, dear child; and I have not asked.' 'You don't even know whom she is in mourning for?' 'No, my dear.' Jessie was displaying more of her old spirits when my mother and I went downstairs; as we entered the room she was saying to uncle Bryan, 'I wish you would tell me what I _am_ to call you. I can't call you Bryan, and I don't like Mr. Carey. I could invent a name certainly, if I wanted to be spiteful.'