But how true those
words were he can never know.

I fell asleep towards morning, and when I woke, it was with a clear head
and stronger eye to comprehend my new chance in life. The room had a
pure, fresh, daylight look, snug and tidy; a clear fire crackled on the
clean hearth; Jacky herself had her most invigorating of morning faces,
going off at the least hint of a joke into redness and smiles. It rained
still, but the curtains were drawn back, and I could see through the
gray wet what a pleasant slope of meadow there was outside, clumped over
with horse-chestnuts and sycamores, down to a narrow creek. The water
was fogged over now with drifting mist, but beyond I caught glimpses of
low wooded hills, and far to the left the pale flush of the sea running
in on the sand. My husband was watching me eagerly as I looked out.

"I do not know where I am, Daniel."

"No, of course you don't,"--rubbing his forehead, as he always did when
he was especially pleased. "There's so much to tell you, Hetty dear!
We're beginning all new again, you see."

"You'll not tell a word, until she's had her breakfast," said Jacky,
dogmatically, coming with her white basin of cool water.

Oh, the remembrance of that plunge of cold on the hot skin, of the
towel's smelling of lavender, of the hard-brushed hair, of the dainty
little tray, with its smoking cup of fragrant, amber tea, and delicatest
slice of crisp toast! Truly, the woman's flesh of me, having been
triumphant so long, goes back with infinite relish to that first meal,
and the two bright faces bent over me. And then came Teddy, slying to
the pillow-side, watching my pale face and thin hands with an awe-struck
gaze, and carrying off the tea and toast to finish by the hearth.

"You can't see much for the rain, mother," anxiously. "Not the orchard,
nor the stable,--but there _is_ a stable, and hay, and eggs every
morning, only the gray hen's trying to set, if you'll believe it. And
old Mary's in the kitchen, and we've got even Tinder and our old peacock
from the Hudson."

"Eat your toast now, Captain," said his father, putting his arm about me
again.

"Yes, Hetty, it's a bit of a farm,--ten or fifteen acres. Our cozery:
yours and mine, dear. It's Rob's surprise,"--with the awkward laugh a
man gives, when, if he were a woman, the tears would come.

"Rob?"

"Yes. He had it ready. I knew it before we left New York, but we wanted
to surprise you. The boys all put in a little. They'