But it was the triumphant call of "Jim, Jim!" that made him turn to see Diana. In it was all the hope that had been buried so long—all the loving joy which she meant to lavish on the man whose starved life had been one long sacrifice for her She had imagined this moment—lived it again and again, and now it was hers. Gracious and beautiful she stood in the dim light, holding out her hands in welcome. Behind her stood Sir John, while Petrie’s face betrayed the surprise that he felt, although he knew he had been fearing such an occurrence. Jim saw them all. One hand still kept its hold on the child, who at the voices had hidden behind his father; he raised the other to his head. He simply spoke the name "Diana." "Why, Jim, I don’t believe you’re glad to see us!" Diana cried, as he made no attempt to take her hand. "Oh yes," he answered. "I’m dazed, Diana—dazed." Then he turned in appeal to Malcolm Petrie. "Petrie?" he questioned. It would have been too cruel if this had taken place with Petrie’s knowledge, but he could not doubt the truth of the solicitor’s words. "This is as much of a surprise to me as it is to you, Mr. Carston." Diana smiled at Petrie. She had taken her own way in spite of his and Sir John’s remonstrance. But they could not understand her—Jim would. What did they know of the Fairies’ Corner—of the long torment she and Jim had shared? "We simply couldn’t wait any longer, Jim. We’ve come to take you home—you’ll come home now, Jim, won’t you? Come home?" And as she spoke she meant all that the word implied in its completeness. She was suing Jim to let her give him all that he had desired in the long ago. "Home—home," Jim repeated. Was he always to be tortured by what he never could have? His eyes fell on Hal, who was peering out from behind him. As Diana saw the tiny figure in its strange garments, she involuntarily exclaimed: "Oh, what a dear boy!" The child stared at her. Smiling, she knelt before him. "Whose little boy are you, dear?" she asked. Hal glanced at his father and his look said, "Shall I go to the strange lady?" Jim nodded his head. Shyly the child advanced towards her. "Jim’s boy," he said. Diana was holding the child’s hands in hers. At the words she lifted her face to Jim and mechanically repeated, "Jim’s boy?" Then she looked from the dark head, with its curious foreign beauty, up to the man who stood there with blanched face and sorrow-stricken eyes. Gradually she began to comprehend the meaning of the boy’s words. Again she mutely questioned Jim. He came to the boy and laid his hands on the little fellow’s head. "Yes, Diana. My boy—my son."