eying intelligence to the crazed brain.

Mrs. Josselin, awed by her daughter's appearance--a little perhaps, by
her loveliness; more, belike, by her air of distinction and her fine
dress (though this was simple enough--a riding suit of grey velvet, with
a broad-brimmed hat and one black feather)--withdrew behind her back the
hand she had been wiping, and stood irresolute, smiling in a timid way.

It was horrible. Ruth stretched out her arms lest in another moment her
mother should bob a curtsy.

"Mother--mother!"

She took the poor creature in her arms and held her, shivering a little
as she sought her lips; for Mrs. Josselin, albeit scrupulously clean,
had a trace of that strange wild smell that haunts the insane. Ruth had
lived with it aforetime and ceased to notice it. Now she recognised it,
and shivered.

"Surely, surely," said the mother as soon as the embrace released her.
"I always said you would come back, some day. In wealth or in trouble,
I always told grandfather you would come back. . . . That hat, now--the
very latest I'll be bound. . . . And how is your good gentleman?"

"Mother! Please do not call him that!"

"Why, you ha'n't quarrelled, ha' you?"

"Indeed, no."

"That's right." Mrs. Josselin nodded, looking extremely wise.
"Show a good face always, no matter what happens; and, with your looks
there's no saying what you can't persuade him to. All the Pococks were
good-looking, though I say it who shouldn't: and as for the Josselins--"

"Sit down, mother," Ruth commanded. She must get this over, and soon,
for it was straining at her heart. "Sit down and listen to what I have
to tell. Afterwards you shall get me something to eat; and while you
are dishing it--dear mother, you were always briskest about the
fireplace--we will talk in the old style."

"Surely, surely." Mrs. Josselin seated herself on the block-stool.

"You remember the promise? In three years--and yesterday the three
years were up--I was to come back and report myself."

"Is it three years, now? Time _do_ slip away!"

"The gel's right," corroborated old Josselin, pausing as he filled a
pipe. "I remember it."

"This is what I have to report--Sir Oliver has asked me to marry him."

There was a pause. "I dunno," said the old man sourly--and Ruth knew
that tone so well! He always used it on hearing good news, lest he
should be mistaken for genial--"I dunno why you couldn' ha' told us that
straight off, without bea