Like the kindly eyes of a welcoming friend, the two great lights upon the posts of Waldstricker's gateway met Tessibel Skinner as she struggled between the tall stone pillars to the private driveway. In sheer fatigue, she allowed Elsie to slip to the snow and sank down beside her. Her heart sang with joy and thanksgiving. She was going to give Helen her dear, golden-haired baby. There was no thought, now, of her hatred for Ebenezer, only wondrous anticipation of his joy at receiving his little girl out of the storm. Through the white light, Tess could outline the rounded figure in the snow. Rhythmical breathing assured her the little one slept in security. Once more, Tess got to her feet and, once more, she gathered up the living bundle. She was almost at the end of her journey. The short rest had given her new strength, and when she got to the stone porch she was able to mount the steps, and move laboriously, almost breathlessly, to the door. Memories keenly bitter-sweet rushed over her. The last time she was on that spot she was going to sing for the master's friends. What numberless happenings loomed before her mental vision, happenings to her and to Waldstricker. She was too dazed, too cold, to consider them in sequence. In the confusion of her soul, only two things stood out distinctly. Her marriage to Frederick Graves and Boy's shining face when the assurance had come to her that he lived and would ever live. Then Deforrest Young--Ah, yes, she had forgotten him! In a little while she would see him, and he would take her back to Mother Moll and Andy. She was directly in front of the heavy portal, now, and with one stiff set of fingers she laid hold of the handle and twisted the knob. The door opened under her pressure and displayed the long reception hall. A rush of warm air welcomed her, and she uttered one little cry and staggered across the threshold. * * * * * Helen Waldstricker and Madelene Graves were waiting wearily for some message from the searching party. Hours had passed that seemed like centuries strung into eternities, hours that had brought no word of the lost baby. Suddenly, Helen sat up as an unusual sound came to her ear. "Did I hear something?" she asked. "I thought it was a voice." "Only the wind," answered Madelene, drowsily. The girl was thinking of Frederick and dreaming what their life might be, now that they were beginning again. Of course, he was ill--very ill, but she'd take him away and nurse him back to health again.