"No; but, you see, a woman feels differently about these things--things of conscience, I mean. Your mother probably thinks he despises her, and a proud woman can never stand that." "But he doesn't. It was himself that he was troubled about, to think that he had strayed from the strict path of duty to such an extent as to allow me--his son--to be blamed for that--Well, it's all wrong, anyway, and mother's got to come home." "How are we to set about it, Dick?" "Dora, you'll have to go and fetch her. I've thought it all out." "I? How can I? That wouldn't do at all, Dick. Don't you see that she would resent it--the advance coming from me, because I was one of those most concerned and affected by her sin; and, being a woman, more likely to be hard upon her than anyone else." "You mean that you nearly married Ormsby because she led you to think that I wasn't worth a tinker's damn. Well, perhaps I wasn't--before the war. But I learned things out there. I had to pull myself together, and endure and go through such privation that a whole life on fifteen dollars a week would be luxury in comparison. I'd go to mother at once, if I were strong enough, but I'm not. So, what do you suggest, little girl?" "I think we ought to sound your father on the matter first. He is difficult to approach. He has a trick of making you feel that he prefers to bear his sorrow alone; but I think it can be managed, if we use a little harmless deception." "How?" "Well, first of all, it wouldn't be a bad idea to get Jane to turn your mother's room out, and clean it as if getting ready for the return of the mistress of the house." "I see," cried Dick, with a spasmodic tightening of the right hand which rested on Dora's shoulder. "Give father the impression that she's coming back, just to see how he takes it." "Yes." "Good! Set about it to-day." "I'll find Jane at once. And, now, I've been here with you quite a long time, and there are many things for me to attend to." "No, not yet," he pleaded with an invalid's sigh, a very mechanical one; but he had found it effectual in reaching Dora's heart on previous occasions. It was efficacious to-day. Her heart was full to bursting with joy and love and--the spring. Dick again raised the delicate question of the date of their marriage, and Dora no longer procrastinated. It should take place as soon as ever the rector and his wife were reconciled. * * * * * John Swinton, who was just beginning to move about the house, white-faced and shaky, with a lustreless eye and snow-white head, was awakened from his torpor by a tremendous bustling up and down stairs. Furniture strewed the landing outside his wife's room, and it was evident that something was going on. "What is happening?" he asked on one occasion, when he found the road to the staircase absolutely barred. "The mistress's room is being prepared for her return," replied Jane, to whom the query was addressed.