"Mrs. Wigram," I said hoarsely, my voice sounding to me as a whisper, "I have news of your late--of your husband. It is good news." "Good news?" Did she faintly echo my words? or, as her face from which all colour had passed peered into mine, and searched it in infinite hope and infinite fear, did our two minds speak without need of physical lips? "Good news?" "Yes," I whispered. "He is alive. The Indians did not----" "Alfred!" Her cry rang through the room, and with it I caught her in my arms as she fell. Beard and long hair, and scar and sunburn, and strange dress--these which had deceived others were no disguise to her--my wife. I bore her gently to the couch, and hung over her in a new paroxysm of fear. "A doctor! Quick! A doctor!" I cried to Mrs. Williams, who was already kneeling beside her. "Do not tell me," I added piteously, "that I have killed her?" "No! no! no!" the good woman answered, the tears running down her face. "Joy does not kill!" An hour later this fear had been lifted from me, and I was walking up and down the library alone with my thankfulness; glad to be alone, yet more glad, more thankful still, when John came in with a beaming face. "You have come to tell me----" I cried, pleased that the tidings had come by his lips--"to go to her? That she will see me?" "Her ladyship is sitting up," he replied. "And Lord Wetherby?" I asked, pausing at the door to put the question. "He left the house at once?' "Yes, my lord, Mr. Wigram has been gone some time." THE END End of Project Gutenberg's Laid up in Lavender, by Stanley J. Weyman