But as she said all this to herself, the advocate was busy, and she felt the weakness of her case, but grew more determinedly obstinate all the same. And the train glided on over the tall scaffold-like bridges, the tree-tops glistened in the silvery moonlight, and there was a restful feeling of calm in her spirit that she had not known for days. "No place like home," said Uncle Luke, breaking a long silence as they glided away from the last station. "No place like home," echoed his brother, as he sought for and took his child's hand. "You will stop with us to-night, Luke?" "Hear him, Louie?" said the old man. "Now is it likely?" "But your place will be cheerless and bare to-night." "Cheerless! Bare! You don't know what you are talking about. If you only knew the longing I have to be once more in my own bed, listening to wind and sea. No, thank you." "But, uncle, for to-night do stay." "Now that's unkind, Louie, after all the time you've made me be away. Well, I will, as a reward to you for rousing yourself up a bit. One condition though; will you come down to-morrow and talk to me while I fish?" She remained silent. "Then I don't stop to-night." "I will come to-morrow, uncle." "Then I'll stop." The train glided on as they watched in silence now for the lights of the little town. First, the ruddy glow of the great lamp on the east pier of the harbour appeared; then, glittering faintly like stars, there were the various lights of the town rising from the water's edge right up to the high terrace level, with the old granite house--the erst peaceful, calm old home. The lights glittered brightly, but they looked dim to Louise, seen as they were through a veil of tears, and now as they rapidly neared a strange feeling of agitation filled the brain of the returned wanderer. It was home, but it could never be the same home again. All would be changed. A feeling of separation must arise between her and Madelaine. The two families must live apart, and a dark rift in her life grow wider as the time glided on, till she was farther and farther away from the bright days of youth, with little to look forward to but sorrow and the memory of the shadow hanging over their home. "Here we are," cried Uncle Luke, as the train glided slowly alongside the platform and then stopped. "Got all your traps? George, give me my stick. Now, then, you first." The station lamps were burning brightly as Louise gave her father her hand and stepped out. Then she felt blind and troubled with a strange feeling of dread, and for a few moments everything seemed to swim round as a strange singing filled her ears.