k's
father's. I wish--you'd let me give it to him--now. I am old-fashioned
enough to want to live on my husband's money."

"Exactly!" Ledyard drew her closer; "quite the proper feeling. It can be
easily arranged."

And while they sat in the gathering gloom, Travers was wending his way up
a village street, and wondering that he found things so little changed.

While his heart grew heavier, his steps hastened, and he felt like a
small boy again--a boy afraid of the dark, afraid of the mystery of
night--alone! The boy of the past had always known a heavy heart, too,
and that added reality to the touch.

There stood the old cottage with a sign "To Let" swinging from the porch.
Had no one lived there since they, he and the pretty creature he called
mother, had gone away?

There had been workmen in the house, evidently. They had carelessly left
the outer door open and a box of tools in the living-room. Travers went
in and sat down upon the chest, closed his eyes, and gave himself up to
his sad mood. Clearly he seemed to hear the low, sweet voice:

"Little son, is that you?" Yes, it was surely he! "Come home to--to
mother? Tired, dear?" Indeed he was tired--tired to the verge of
exhaustion. "Suppose--suppose we have a story? Come, little son! It shall
be a story of a fine, golden-haired princess who loves and loves, but--is
very, very wise. And you are to be the prince who is wise, too. If you
are not both very wise there will be trouble; and of course princesses
and princes do not have trouble." The old, foolish memory ran on with its
deeper truth breaking in upon the heart and soul of the man in the
haunted room.

Then Travers spoke aloud:

"Mother, I will make no mistake if I can help it, and as God hears me,
I will not cheat love. As far as lies in me, I will play fair for her
sake--and yours!"

When he uncovered his eyes he almost expected to see a creaky little
rocker and a sleepy boy resting on the breast of a woman so beautiful
that it was no wonder many had loved her.

"Poor, little, long-ago mother!"

Then he thought of Helen and her strong purpose in life, her devotion and
sacrifice.

"I must go to her!" he cried resolutely. "I owe her--much, much!"

CHAPTER XXV

The pines and the hemlocks stood out sharply against a pink, throbbing
sky in which the stars still shone faintly but brilliantly. It was five
o'clock of a dim morning, and no one was astir in the In-Place as the
little steamer in