Mary’s eyes filled in spite of herself. What long, long years it was that she had thought but little of John! and yet there suddenly seemed to come before her a vision of his arrival from school or from college, all smiles and, making the old roof ring with his shout of pleasure. Was it possible that this would happen over again--that he would come in a moment, as his little daughter said? But Lilias did not know all the difficulties, nor the one great obstacle that stood in John’s way, and which perhaps he might never get over. She forgot herself in these thoughts, and did not perceive that Lilias was gazing wistfully at her, endeavouring with all her childish might to penetrate her mind and know the occasion of these tears. Mary was recalled to herself by feeling the child’s arm steal round her, and the soft touch of a little hand and handkerchief upon her wet eyes. “You are crying,” said Lilias. “Mary, is it for papa?--why should you cry for papa?” “My darling, we don’t know where he is, nor anything about him--” “That does not matter,” said Lilias, winking rapidly to throw off the sympathetic tears which had gathered in her own eyes; “he is always like that. We never knew where he was; but just when he could, just when it was possible, he came home. We never could tell when it would be--it might be any day. Some time when we are forgetting and not expecting him. Ah----!” cried the child, with a ring of wonder in the sudden exclamation. The hall-door was open as usual, and on the road was a distant figure just visible which drew from Lilias this sudden cry. She ran to the door, clutching her brother--“Come, Nello, Nello!” and rushed forth. Mary sat still, thinking her heart had stopped in her breast--or was it not rather suffocating her by the wildness of its beating? She sat immovable, watching the little pair at the door. Could it be that John had come home? John! he who would be the most welcome yet the most impossible of visitors; he who had a right to everything, yet dared not be seen in the old house. She sat and trembled, not daring to look out, already planning what she could do, what was to be done. But the children stopped short at the door. Lilias, with the wind in her skirts and her ribbons, half-flying, stopped; and Nello stopped, who went by her impulse, not by his own. They paused: they stood for a moment gazing; then they turned back sadly. “Oh no, no!” said Lilias. “No, Mary! no. It is a little, something like--a very little; it is the walking, and the shape of him. But no, no, it is not papa!” “Papa!” said Nello, “was that why you looked? I knew better. Papa is all that much more tall. Why are you crying, Lily? There is nothing that makes cry.” “I am disappointed,” said the little girl, who had seated herself suddenly on the floor and wept. It was a sudden sharp shower, but it was soon over; she sprang up drying her eyes. “But it will be for to-morrow!” she cried.