itself,
reborn out of a dark last night. When the last bit of blackened paper
went swirling up the chimney, and the two of them had risen, the most
beautiful and expressive eyes under heaven looked up like blue and
dewy flowers into the Butterfly Man's face. She was too wise and too
tender to try to thank him in words, and never while they two lived
would this be again referred to so much as once by either; but she
took his hand, palm upward, gave him one deep long upward glance, and
then bent her beautiful head and dropped into the center of his palm a
kiss, and closed the fingers gently over it for everlasting keeping
and remembrance. The eyes brimmed over then, and two large tears fell
upon his hand and washed her kiss in, indelibly.

None of us four had the power of speech left us. Heaven knows what we
should have done, if Laurence hadn't opened the door at that moment
and walked in upon us. I don't think he altogether sensed the
tenseness of the situation which his coming relieved, but he went pale
at sight of Mary Virginia, and he would have left incontinently if my
mother, with a joyous shriek, hadn't pounced upon him.

"Laurence! Why, Laurence! But we didn't expect you home until
to-morrow night!" said she, kissing him motherly. "My dear, dear boy,
how glad I am to see you! What happy wind blew you home to-day,
Laurence?"

"Oh, I finished my work ahead of schedule and got away just as soon as
I could," Laurence briefly and modestly explained thus that he had won
his case. He edged toward the door, avoiding Mary Virginia's eyes. He
had bowed to her with formal politeness. He wondered at the usually
tactful Madame's open effort to detain him. It was a little too much
to expect of him!

"I just ran in to see how you all were," he tried to be very casual.
"See you later, Padre. 'By, p'tite Madame. 'By, Flint." He bowed again
to Mary Virginia, whose color had altogether left her, and who stood
there most palpably nervous and distressed.

"Laurence!" The Butterfly Man spoke abruptly. "Laurence, if a chap was
dying of thirst and the water of life was offered him, he'd be
considerable of a fool to turn his head aside and refuse to see it,
wouldn't he?"

Laurence paused. Something in the Butterfly Man's face, something in
mine and Madame's, but, above all, something in Mary Virginia's,
arrested him. He stood wavering, and my mother released his arm.

"I take it," said John Flint, boldly plunging to the very hear