of fiction
to the realities of the past and the future.

Suddenly Lord Barminster raised his head.

"Constance, what does Lady Ankerton say in her letter?"

The girl took it from the rack on the writing-desk.

"She says," replied the sweet, musical voice, "that the Ashfords are
well and thriving. She has taken quite an interest in them. Mr. Harker
is rather weak, but cheerful, and so happy in the love of his
grandchildren."

"Ah!" said Lord Barminster, "I am glad they are happy, they deserve all
the pleasure they can get."

He sighed. "When does the African mail come in, my dear?" he asked as
Lady Constance put away the letter she had been reading.

"To-night, usually," she returned with a sigh. A sudden flush rose to
her cheek, rendering her face still more lovely while it lasted, but
leaving her paler than ever when it had gone.

"Still wandering," said her uncle sadly; "surely, by now, Adrien ought
to have forgotten the past."

"He'll never come back until he does," said Lady Constance softly.

"No," said her uncle, with a touch of pride. "He will not come back
until he can take up a worthier life with a worthy love, Constance. Ring
the bell, my dear, and inquire for the mail."

She obeyed him and returned to the fire again, placing her hand upon the
old man's shoulder. Very beautiful she looked, as the bright gleam of
the firelight illumined her face, more lovely now because of its tender,
womanly expression; and the old man's gaze rested lovingly on her.

"When he comes back," he said musingly, "Adrien will find a sweet prize.
He loves you, and his love will increase and endure."

Almost before he had finished speaking there came the sound of
footsteps, and the door opened. The girl barely turned.

"Has the mail come in?" she asked, thinking it was a servant.

But there was no answer. The footsteps came nearer, and some one bent
down over the old man's chair.

"Father!" exclaimed a manly voice.

Lady Constance uttered a low cry, and Lord Barminster sprang to his feet
exclaiming.

"Adrien, my boy!"

"Yes, father, it is I," said Leroy, his voice hoarse with emotion. Then
he turned to Constance, who was gazing at him with tears of joy in her
eyes.

"Constance, my darling," he said gently. "Will you forgive me my long
neglect of you? My eyes have seen you through all the darkness of these
weary months. I have hungered for you all the time, and now I have come
into the light, I want you for my