o be there. Before she could ring, the door was
flung open with the outburst,

"I knowed it was you! I saw you froo de window." She caught up the
laughing child with a loving word. "Of course you knew me, sweetheart!
Where's mama, and Auntie, and 'Wobin', and all?"

The brown curls bobbed against her shoulder and the red lips met her own
in frank affection.

"Dey's heah, but Wobin's wunned away."

"Wunned away? The naughty dog! Ah, Dorette, there you are! How's the
blessed mother?"

"Better, Joyce; no pain in several days. Come in, dear--she'll be so
glad! Oh, Joyce I did think when all restrictions were removed----"

"Ah! no, dear. You knew I would observe every form of respect. I have
been nowhere yet."

She glanced down meaningly at her black gown, and Dorette's olive skin
flushed in a delicate fashion.

"I beg your pardon. You are right, as usual. Come in to ma mere."

Joyce followed the sweet-faced young woman, still carrying the little
child who was so like her, and thus entered the large and pleasant
living-room of the old house. In the embrasure of one broad window,
seeming to focus all the light which streamed in freely through the
thin, parted curtains, sat a woman in a gown of soft white wool, made
with artistic simplicity. Her face had the same soft cream tint as her
gown, and the hair, turned back in loose waves from her broad forehead,
was of a purplish black, occasionally streaked with gray. All the
features were clean-cut and delicate, but the expression in the large
black eyes was that vague, appealing one which too surely indicates the
utter loss of sight.

Evidently the woman, still exceptionally beautiful in her maturity, was
hopelessly blind.

Joyce quickly set down the little one, and advanced on winged feet.

"Ma mere," she said in a voice almost of adoration, as she dropped to
her knees beside the woman's chair, "Ma mere, I have come back."

"Dear one! Ma petite!" exclaimed the other in liquid southern accents,
reaching out a delicate, trembling hand, which the girl caught and
kissed devotedly. "We have longed for you. But we knew you would come!
Let me see your face, child."

Joyce turned it upward and remained very still while the other lightly
touched brow, eyes, lips, and chin, in a swift, assured fashion.

"Ah, you are truly the same little Joyce. There is the breadth between
the eyes like an innocent child's, the straight, firm little nose like a
Greek outline, the full c