Then there was a faint ejaculation, two warm soft arms clasped her, and a well-known voice said, in a loving whisper, "Louise--sister--at last!" For one moment the dark veil over her eyes seemed to lift, and like a flash she realised that Madelaine was not in black, and that resting upon a stick there was a pale face which lit up with smiles as its owner clasped her to his breast in turn. "My dearest child! welcome back. The place is not the same without you." "Louie, my darling!" in another pleasant voice, as kisses were rained upon her cheek, and there was another suggestion of rain which left its marks warm. "He would come, George Vine;" and the giver of these last kisses, and warm tears, did battle for the possession of the returned truant. "Maddy, my dear," she cried reproachfully and in a loud parenthesis, "let me have one hand. He ought not to have left the house, but he is so determined. He would come." "Well, Dutch doll, don't I deserve a kiss?" cried old Luke grimly. "Dear Uncle Luke!" "Hah, that's better. George, I think I shall go home with the Van Heldres. I'm starving." "But you can't," cried the lady of that house in dismay; "we are all coming up to you. Ah, Mr Leslie, how _do_ you do?" "Quite well," said that personage quietly; and Madelaine felt Louise's hand close upon hers spasmodically. "Leslie! you here?" said George Vine eagerly. "Yes; I came down from town in the same train." "Too proud to be seen with us, eh?" said Uncle Luke sarcastically, as there was a warm salute from the Van Heldres to one as great a stranger as the Vines. "I thought it would be more delicate to let you come down alone," said Leslie gravely. George Vine had by this time got hold of the young man's hand. "My boy--Harry?" he whispered, "have you any news?" "Yes," was whispered back. "Let me set your mind at rest. He is safe." "But where? For Heaven's sake, man, speak!" panted the trembling father as he clung to him. "Across the sea." Volume 3, Chapter XXII. HARRY'S MESSAGE. "Do you wish me to repeat it? Have you not heard from your father or your uncle?" "Yes; but I want to hear it all again from you. Harry sent me some message." Leslie was silent. "Why do you not speak? You are keeping something: back." "Yes; he gave me a message for you, one I was to deliver." "Well," said Louise quickly, "why do you not deliver it?" "Because Harry is, in spite of his trouble, still young and thoughtless. It is a message that would make you more bitter against me than you are now." Louise rose from where she was seated in the dining-room, walked across to the bay window, looked out upon the sea, and then returned. "I am not bitter against you, Mr Leslie. How could I be against one who has served us so well? But tell me my brother's message now." He looked at her with so deep a sense of passionate longing in his eyes, that as she met his ardent gaze her eyes sank, and her colour began to heighten.