"Very happy." As she uttered those words I began to collect my scattered thoughts. What did happiness mean? It has a separate and distinct meaning for every human being who has ever tasted it. To me it meant life with Ronald, loving him and being entirely beloved in return. But that kind of happiness could never again be mine. My song was ended; my tale was told. I suffered acutely under the first pangs of remembrance. All the events of those last two days, before I fled from London, came crowding back into my weak head until I could hardly bear the burden of existence. The elderly body in the cap (who was the rector's housekeeper) gently raised me in the bed and brought me chicken-broth, and Marian watched patiently by my side. Perhaps she understood some of the thoughts that were in my mind, for she gave me a reassuring smile. How I longed to be alone with her and open my heart to this true friend! Then the doctor came, and after he had seen me, I heard Marian conferring with him in a low tone at the end of the room. And when she came back to my side her face was brighter, and her smile had a new meaning. "Cheer up, Louie," she whispered. "You are getting better fast, and you will soon be able to see Ronald." "He does not want to see me any more," I said, sadly. "My dear child, there have been terrible misunderstandings; but everything will be set right. Trust me, Louie, your husband has never truly loved any woman but yourself, and he has been suffering acutely since you left him." "Suffering? Oh, Marian! Send for him; tell him to come at once!" "Hush, hush, Louie. You must wait until you are a little stronger. He will be quite happy when he knows that you want him back again." I closed my eyes and gave myself up to the new, blissful sense of thankfulness and peace. Somehow—I knew not in what way—my Ronald would be given back to me. That night I had a sound sleep, and when I woke up, it was bright morning. Delicate perfumes came stealing in through the open windows; I could see the tops of fruit-trees gently stirred by a soft wind, and between the boughs I caught a glimpse of the grey chump tower. Looking round fur Marian, I saw her entering the room with a basket of freshly-gathered roses and honeysuckle—such roses as are not to be found in every garden. Seeing that my eyes were open, she brought the basket to my side and let me bury my face in the great, sweet crimson flowers. She herself looked very fresh and pleasant in her pretty chintz gown, and there was a quiet expression of content on her face as she hovered round my pillow. "Old times seem to have come back, Louie," she said, cheerfully. "We might fancy ourselves in your grandfather's cottage. Don't you remember that I used sometimes to play at being nurse there?"