mated Louis. He had not a care in the world. Even
his long-unpaid tailor's bill was magically abolished. He was an
embodiment of exulting hope and fine aspirations.

Rachel stirred, dimly aware of the invasion. And Louis, actuated by
the most delicate regard for her sensitive modesty, vanished back for
a moment into the hall, until she should have fitted herself for his
beholding.

Mrs. Tams had come from somewhere into the hall. She was munching a
square of bread and cold bacon, and she curtsied, exclaiming--

"It's never Mester Fores! That's twice her's been woke up this day!"

"Who's there?" Rachel called out, and her voice had the breaking,
bewildered softness of a woman's in the dark, emerging from a dream.

"Sorry! Sorry!" said Louis, behind the door.

"It's all right," she reassured him.

He returned to the room. She was sitting upright on the sofa, her arms
a little extended and the tips of her fingers touching the sofa. The
coil of her hair had been arranged. The romance of the exciting night
still clung to her, for Louis; but what chiefly seduced him was the
mingling in her mien of soft confusion and candid, sturdy honesty and
dependableness. He felt that here was not only a ravishing charm, but
a source of moral strength from which he could draw inexhaustibly that
which he had had a slight suspicion he lacked. He felt that here was
joy and salvation united, and it seemed too good to be true. Strange
that when she greeted him at the door-step on the previous evening, he
had imagined that she was revealing herself to him for the first
time; and again later, in the kitchen, he had imagined that she was
revealing herself to him for the first time; and again, still later,
in the sudden crisis at his bedroom door, he had imagined that she was
revealing herself to him for the first time. For now he perceived that
he had never really seen her before; and he was astounded and awed.

"Auntie still on the up-grade?" he inquired, using all his own charm.
He guessed, of course, that Mrs. Maldon must be still better, and he
was very glad, although, if she recovered, it would be she and not
himself that he had deprived of bank-notes.

"Oh yes, she's better," said Rachel, not moving from the sofa; "but
have you heard what's happened?"

In spite of himself he trembled, awaiting the disclosure. "Now for the
bank-notes!" he reflected, bracing his nerves. He shook his head.

She told him what had happened; she told h