The old man looked at her admiringly when she was ready to go--at the dainty gown of white, the splendid hair of dark auburn crowning her head, the big wistful eyes, the refined face. Upon him had devolved the duty of preparing Alice Westmore for what she would see in the cabin, and never did he enter more fully into the sacredness of such an occasion. And now, when she was ready and stood before him in all her superb womanhood, a basket of dainties on her arm for the old servants, he spoke very solemnly as he handed her an ambrotype set in a large gold breast-pin. "You'll need this to set you off--around yo' neck." At sight of it all the color left her cheeks. "Why, it is mine--I gave it to--to--Tom. He took it to the war with him. Where"--A sob leaped into her throat and stopped her. "On my journey," said the old man quickly, "I heard somethin' of Cap'n Tom. You must prepare yo'se'f for good news." Her heart jumped and the blood surged back again, and she grew weak, but the old man laughed his cheery laugh, and, pretending to clap her playfully on the shoulder, he held her firmly with his great iron hand, as he saw the blood go out of her cheeks, leaving them as white as white roses: "Down there," he added, "I'll tell you all. But God is good--God is good." Bewildered, pale, and with throbbing heart, she let him take her basket and lead her down the well-beaten path. She could not speak, for something, somehow, said to her that Captain Tom Travis was alive and that she would see him--next week perhaps--next month or year--it mattered not so that she would see him. And yet--and yet--O all these years--all these years! She kept saying over the words of the old Bishop, as one numbed, and unable to think, keeps repeating the last thing that enters the mind. Trembling, white, her knees weak beneath her, she followed saying: "God is good--oh, Bishop--tell me--why--why--why--" "Because Cap'n Tom is not dead, Miss Alice, he is alive and well." They had reached the large oak which shadowed the little cabin. She stopped suddenly in the agony of happiness, and the strong old man, who had been watching her, turned and caught her with a firm grasp, while the stars danced frantically above her. And half-unconscious she felt another one come to his aid, one who took her in his arms and kissed her lips and her eyes ... and carried her into the bright fire-lighted cabin, ... carried her in strength and happiness that made her lay her cheek against his, ... and there were tears on it, and somehow she lay as if she were a child in his arms, ... a child again and she was happy, ... and there were silence and sweet dreams and the long-dead smell of the crepe-myrtle.... She did not remember again until she sat up on the cot in the clean little cabin, and Tom Travis, tall and in the splendor of manhood, sat holding her hands and stroking her hair and whispering: "_Alice, my darling--it is all well--and I have come back for you, at last!_"