"Lord bless us! Master Robert," said the old woman nervously, "who ever's coming, and the mistress away, and Miss Ellen not fit to be left, I'm sure--not for a fortnight yet, if so soon----" "Alice, dear old woman!" said Robert, and he bent his tall figure, and laid his hands kindly on her shoulders,--"it is for my wife. My wife is coming back to me!" She looked at him with the timid uncertainty of old age, and began to tremble and cry. "Yes, she's coming," he said. "You don't know her, Alice,--you saw her very seldom; you don't know how good she is----" "Good, Master Robert! and stay from you so long, and you in trouble, and so fond of her!" "She did not know I was in trouble, nurse; I never told her anything of the kind. She thought I was the same rich man I had been when she left me; and it was all my fault. I cannot explain; but if you love me,--and I know you do, old nurse, I know you do--who so well?--never blame my wife in your heart, or let others blame her in your hearing. But she's coming back to me; think of that." "When?" was Alice's first practical question; "does my mistress know?" was her second. "To-morrow, or the next day, I hope; I am not sure, until I hear again--no, my mother does not know; no one knows. She will come here to me, until I can get a quiet home of our own; then she and I will begin our life again;" and as Robert spoke the words, he could hardly believe in the meaning they conveyed. Alice had entertained no favourable opinion of Katharine, and had never thought at all of her of late, since she had ceased to be mentioned by Mrs. Streightley. But Robert's joy acted as a revelation of his sorrow to the faithful friend who watched him more closely, and knew him better than any one in the world beside. She listened, therefore, with the utmost attention to his directions, and promised the closest compliance with his wishes. Every thing should be done to make the house fit for Mrs. Streightley's reception; little was needed, indeed, but the fires should be lighted and the rooms swept and garnished. Robert thought of the suite of apartments at Portland Place, and of the "Lady-Kilmantan" hangings at Middlemeads, but not bitterly; he thought of them, indeed, with a smile: such things mattered little now to him, or to his wife. His wife! He called her by the sacred name, in his thoughts, a thousand times in an hour, and life seemed too short and narrow for all his thankfulness and joy.