It was impossible not to smile at this comment as applied to the man whom Mrs. Bryan now went forward to meet. She acknowledged at once, as she saw him shaking the thick snowflakes from the collar of his coat, that his beauty had not been exaggerated. He was a magnificent, blond creature, with youthful strength and health in every line of figure and face. A ready smile of good humor rose to his lips, as he took off his hat with a splendid grace and made Mrs. Bryan a bow. “Mrs. Leith is expecting you,” she said. “Will you go up to her sitting-room?” “Yes, thanks, when I have got rid of some of this snow. I must ask your forgiveness for bringing so much of it into your house. It’s clean, however, and I hope will do no harm.” As he spoke he was taking off his long, fur-lined coat, and as he threw in on a chair, he looked at her again and smiled. “Oh, I’ll have it brushed for you!” she said, and then stopped short, provoked at having been so civil to the man whom she had intended to treat with cold contempt. “Walk upstairs,” she said, more distantly. “I’ll go with you, and show you the room.” He gave her the smallest of bows, but it gave the old widow an agreeable sense of homage. As he preceded her up the stairs, he said, in a voice no one could fail to find delightful: “What a fascinating old house you have!” The compliment was agreeable to her, but at the same time she felt a certain indignation that he could be so unmoved at the prospect of an interview which had put that poor child, waiting yonder, in a fever of agitation. Mauma had disappeared from the landing, and when Mrs. Bryan had pointed out the door, she turned and went downstairs. She heard his quick knock, and then the turn of the knob. As she looked back, he was just disappearing and closing the door after him. In the room beyond that closed door intense silence reigned for some moments. Leith had come no farther than across the threshold, and stood with his back against the door. Then, undoubtedly, Fleecy recognized him, for she came forward and began to rub against his legs, making a purring noise distinctly audible in the silent room. Fleecy’s mistress stood on the rug intensely still, with her hands clasped tight together. Presently the man spoke, in his very gentlest voice. “Fleecy is glad to see me,” he said in a tone of tender reproach. “And so am I! Oh, Bertie!” she gasped, catching her breath with a sort of sob. “Are you?” he said, and, standing where he was, he held out his arms. In a second she had flown to them, and the great man had lifted her off her feet and caught her to his breast and held her there. She clung with both arms around his neck, and laid her face in the hollow of his throat. For a few seconds neither spoke, and then he put her down, still holding one of her hands, and led her so across the room. “So you are glad to see me, Mim!” he said, standing on the hearth-rug, and taking her little face between his large, beautiful hands.