I had managed to regain my spirits entirely before Harry returned: if anything, indeed, I think this revival of all my fancies, after my disappointment and annoyance, had stimulated me more than before. It was a beautiful April evening, quite warm and summer-like, and there had just been such a sunset, visible out of the front windows, as would have gone far at any time to reconcile me to things in general. I was sitting in the little drawing-room alone, with baby Harry in my lap, much delighted to find that he could stand by my side for half a minute all by himself, and rewarding him with kisses for the exhibition of that accomplishment. I was tired after my long walk, and felt it delicious rest to lean back in that chair and watch the light gradually fading out of the sky, free to think my own thoughts, yet always with the sweet accompaniment of baby’s inarticulate little syllables, and touches of his soft small fingers. I remember that moment like a moment detached out of my life. My heart had rebounded higher out of its despondency. Who could tell what a bright future that might be on the very brink of which we trembled? And I, whom Harry had married so foolishly, it was I who was to bring this wealth to my husband and my child. It was pleasant thinking in that stir of hope, in that calm of evening, sitting listening for Harry’s step on the stair. The light grew less and less in the two front windows, and the open door of communication between the two rooms brought in a long line of grey luminous sky from the east into my twilight picture. And I had so much to tell Harry. Ah, there at last was his foot upon the stair! He came in, not to the room in which I was, but to the other, and gave a glance round to see if I was there; then, not seeing me, instead of calling out for “Milly darling,” as he always did, Harry threw his cap on the table, and dropped heavily into a chair, with a long sigh--a strange sigh, half relieved, half impatient--the sigh of something on his mind. I can see the half-open door, the long gleam of the eastern window, the scarcely visible figure dropped into that chair--I can see them all as clearly as at that moment. I stumbled up unawares, gathered baby into my arms I cannot tell how, and was at his side in a moment. My own voice sounded foreign to my ears as I cried out, “Harry, what is it? tell me!” Nothing else would come from my lips. He rose too--the attitude of rest was not possible at such a time; he came and held the child and me close to him, making me lean on him. “It is nothing more than we expected,” he said, “Milly darling. It is only to have a heart--you are a soldier’s wife.”