"He has found his way in, then," she thought, not without a slight and natural tremor, which, however, disappeared as she gazed, so pathetically gentle was the whole aspect of the intruder. But--his face changed curiously--the sight of hers, now fully in his view, seemed strangely to affect him. With a gesture of utter bewilderment he raised his hand to his forehead as if to brush something away--the cloud still resting on his brain--then a smile broke over the old face, a wonderful smile. "Marion," he said, "at last? I--I thought I was dreaming. I heard you playing in my dream. It is the right place though, 'Half-way between the stiles,' you said. I have waited so long and come so often, and now it is snowing again. Just a little, dear, nothing to hurt. Marion, my darling, why don't you speak? Is it all a dream--this fine room, the music and all? Are _you_ a dream?" He closed his eyes as if he were fainting. Inexpressibly touched, all Ellinor's womanly nature went out to him. She started forward, half leading, half lifting him to a seat close at hand. "I--I am not Marion," she said, and afterwards she wondered what had inspired the words, "but I am"--not "Ellinor," something made her change the name as he spoke--"I am Nelly." He opened his eyes again. "Little Nell," he said, "has she sent you down to me from heaven? My little Nell!" And then he fell back unconscious--this time he had fainted. She thought he was dead, but it was not so--her cries for help soon brought her friends, Mr. Raynald first of all. He did not seem startled, he soothed Ellinor at once. "It is poor old Giles," he said. "I know all about him, he has found his way in at last." "But--but----," stammered the girl, "there is something else, Mr. Raynald. I--I seem to remember something." She looked nearly as white as their poor visitor, and as Mr. Raynald glanced at her, a curious expression flitted across his own face. Could it be so? He knew all her story. "Wait a little, my dear," he said. "We must attend to poor Giles first." They were very kind and tender to the old man, but he seemed to be barely conscious, even after restoratives had brought him out of the actual fainting fit. Then Mrs. Raynald proposed that his servants--his housekeeper if he had one--should be sent for. And when faithful Betsy, stout as of old, though less nimble, made her appearance, her irrepressible emotion at the sight of Ellinor, pale and trembling though the young governess was, gave form and substance to Mr. Raynald's suspicions. Yes, they had met at last--father and daughter--"half-way between the stiles". He was "Dada," she was little "Nell". Might it not be that Marion's prayers had brought them together? Every reasonable proof was forthcoming--the little parcel of clothes, the correspondence in the dates, the strong resemblance to her mother.