when masculine tones struck my ears. I
opened the parlor door softly, and saw Ben Somers in an easy-chair,
basking before a glowing fire, his luminous face set toward Veronica,
who was near him, holding a small screen between her and the fire.
"She is always ready," I thought, contemplating her as I would a
picture. Her ruby-colored merino dress absorbed the light; she was
a mass of deep red, except her face and hair, above which her silver
crescent comb shone. Her slender feet were tapping the rug. She wore
boots the color of her dress; Ben was looking at them. Mother was
there, and in the background Aunt Merce and Fanny figured. I pushed
the door wide; as the stream of cold air reached them, they looked
toward it, and cried--"Cassandra!" Ben started up with extended hands.

"I went as far as Cape Horn only, but I bought you the idol and lots
of things I promised from a passing ship. I have been home a week, and
I am _here_. Are you glad? Can I stay?"

"Yes, yes," chorused the company, and I was too busy trying to get
off my gloves to speak. Father came in, and welcomed him with warmth.
Fanny ran out for a lamp; when she brought it, Veronica changed the
position of her screen, and held it close to her face.

"Did you have a cold ride, Locke?" asked mother, gazing into the
fire with that expression of satisfaction we have when somebody beside
ourselves has been exposed to hardships. It is the same principle
entertained by those who depend upon and enjoy seeing criminals hung.

Meanwhile my bonnet-strings got in a knot, which Fanny saw, and
was about to apply scissors, when Aunt Merce, unable to bear the
sacrifice, interfered and untied them, all present so interested in
the operation that conversation was suspended. Presently Aunt Merce
was called out, and was shortly followed by mother and Fanny. Ben
stood before me; his eyes, darting sharp rays, pierced me through;
they rested on the thread-like scars which marked my cheek, and which
were more visible from the effect of cold.

"Tattooed still," I said in a low voice, pointing to them.

"I see"--a sorrowful look crossed his face; he took my hand and kissed
it. Veronica, who had dropped the screen, met my glance toward her
with one perfectly impassive. As they watched me, I saw myself as they
did. A tall girl in gray, whose deep, controlled voice vibrated in
their ears, like the far-off sounds we hear at night from woods or the
sea, whose face was ineffaceably ma