ung mistress of
Greenriver was far gone in consumption, and had been ordered to winter
abroad; but Toni's appearance, on the day of her return, was quite
sufficient to give the lie to that particular _canard_.

Browned with the sun, her Southern colouring accentuated by the months
spent in what was, after all, almost her native land, Toni looked the
picture of glowing, vivid health; and when, late that night, she faced
her husband with sparkling eyes across the rose-decked table, Owen
realized, for the first time, that this quaint, half-foreign wife of his
was giving promise of developing into actual beauty.

* * * * *

After dinner they strolled into the garden, Jock, deliriously happy,
pressing closely to his mistress's side; and as they passed between the
sleeping flowers Toni suddenly clung to her husband's arm.

"Owen! Listen. The nightingale! Oh, isn't it perfect--that big yellow
moon--and the roses--and now--_that_."

"Is it better than Italy, Toni? Wouldn't you rather be there--on a night
like this--in that land of beauty and romance?"

For a moment Toni stood still, gazing round her in silence. She looked
at the old grey house, from which the mellow lamplight streamed, the Ten
Little Ladies casting their beams bravely through the big windows of the
gallery upstairs. She looked at the sleeping roses, the velvet lawns,
the tall trees; and her eyes were very peaceful. The golden moonlight
transfigured the scene; from the dreaming river came the creak of oars
moving gently in their rowlocks; and the nightingale's song was dying
softly, tenderly, on the quiet air.

Slowly Toni's gaze came back to her husband's face; and in her eyes,
velvety and black in the moonlight, Owen read her answer before she
spoke.

"Wherever you are is my land of beauty," she said, in a low voice.
"But ... oh, I am so glad, so glad you have brought me home--to
Greenriver."

And as he heard the words, saw, too, the loving little gesture which
accompanied them as she slipped her hand into his arm, Owen felt that
for them both Greenriver was home henceforth.

He stooped and kissed her, quietly, on the white brow beneath the ebony
hair; end as if he had been waiting for the signal, the unseen
nightingale broke once more into song.

THE END

* * * * *

FAMOUS NOVELS BY KATHLYN RHODES

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THE DESERT DREAMERS
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