Till he opened his eyes Lady Joan had been unable to satisfy herself whether the pale, worn, yet grand-looking youth could indeed be the lad Cosmo, and was not at all prepared for such precipitate familiarity: the moment she was released, she drew back with some feeling, if not of offence, yet of annoyance. But such a smile flooded Cosmo’s face, mingled with such a pleading look of apology and excuse, which seemed to say, “How _could_ I help it?” that she was ashamed of herself. It was the same true face as the boy’s, with its old look of devotion and gentle worship! To make all right she stooped of her own accord, and kissed his forehead. “Thank you,” murmured Cosmo, his own voice sounding to him like that of another. “Don’t be vexed with me. I am but a baby, and have no mother. When I saw you, it was as if heaven had come down into hell, and I did not think to help it. How beautiful you are! How good of you to come to me!” “Oh, Cosmo!” cried Lady Joan--and now large silent tears were running down her cheeks--“to think of the way you and your father took me and mine in, and here you have been lying ill--I don’t know how long--in a place not fit for a beggar!” “That’s just what I am!” returned Cosmo with a smile, feeling already almost well. “I have such a long story to tell you, Joan! I remember all about it now.” “Why didn’t you write,--?” said Joan, and checked herself, for alas! if he had written, what would she not have found herself compelled to do!--“Why didn’t you send for me at once? They told me there was a young gardener lying ill, and of course I never dreamed it could be you. But I know if you had heard at Castle Warlock that a stranger was lying ill somewhere about the place, you would have gone to him at once! It was very wrong of me, and I am sorely punished!” “Never mind,” said Cosmo; “it’s all right now. I have you, and it makes me well again all at once. When I see you standing there, looking just as you used, all the time between is shrivelled up to nothing, and the present joins right on to the past. But you look sad, Joan!--I _may_ call you Joan still, mayn’t I?” “Surely, Cosmo. What else? I haven’t too many to call me Joan!” “But what makes you look sad?” “Isn’t it enough to think how I have treated you?” “You didn’t know it was me,” said Cosmo. “That is true. But if, as your father taught you, I had done it to _Him_--” “Well, there’s one thing, Joan--you’ll do differently another time.” “I can’t be sure of that, for my very heart grows stupid, living here all alone.” “Anyhow, you will have trouble enough with me for awhile, fast as your eyes can heal me,” said Cosmo, who began to be aware of a reaction. Lady Joan’s face flushed with pleasure, but the next moment grew pale again at the thought of how little she could do for him. “The first thing,” she said, “is to write to your father. When he knows I have got you, he won’t be uneasy. I will go and do it at once.”