Such a beautiful, quiet September night, with great, soft stars overhead, and the scent of fallen leaves in the air; the path beneath his feet was soft with them, and as he passed under the elms which by daylight were a blaze of sunny gold, some leaves dropped gently on his head. 'To-morrow,' he said, 'I will bring little Zoe home, and I will let her mother--I will let Edith know that the child is with me, and that if she likes'---- It needed but a word, he felt sure, to bring the mother to the baby, the daughter to her father. He stood for a moment by the church-yard gate, close to the spot where that bitter, cruel parting had been, and fancied what the meeting would be. After all, what was his feeling for little Zoe, and his imagination of what his little grandchild would be to him in the future, to the delight of having Edith's arms round his neck and holding her to his heart once more? 'Edith,' he whispered softly, as he turned away; 'Edith, come home!' 'I wonder,' he said to Jane Sands that night; 'I wonder if you could find out an address for me?' She was folding up the tablecloth, and she stopped with a puzzled look. 'An address? Whose?' 'Well,' he said, without looking at her, 'I fancy there are still some of the Blakes, (the word came out with a certain effort) 'living at Bilton, and perhaps you could find out from them the address I want; or, perhaps,' he added quickly, for she understood now, and eager words were on her lips, 'perhaps you know. There! never mind now; if you know, you can tell me to-morrow.' CHAPTER VIII. Preparation--The Room Furnished--Mrs Gray at Work--The Baby Gone--The Gypsy Mother--The Gypsy's Story--A Foolish Fancy--Something Has Happened--The Real Baby Morning very often brings other counsels, but this was not the case with Mr Robins, for when he got up next day he was more than ever resolved to carry out his intention of bringing little Zoe home, and letting her mother know that a welcome awaited her in her old home. He had not slept very much during the night, for his mind had been too full of the change that was coming in his life, and of the difference that the presence of Edith and little Zoe would make in the dull, old house. Sad and worn and altered, was she! Ah! that would soon pass away with kindness and care and happiness, and the cough that had sounded so hollow and ominous should be nursed away, and Edith should be a girl again, a girl as she ought to be yet by right of her years; and those five years of suffering and estrangement should be altogether forgotten as if they had never been.