then I shall
be off again. I could never, never look on _her_ face--the wife of that
man--never.'

He was at the garden gate of his old home now, against which two large
lilac bushes grew, and, now in full blossom, scented the air with their
fragrance.

Jack took up his position so that he was shielded from observation by
the overhanging boughs of one of the bushes, and looked up the straight
path to the house.

Everything was apparently well cared for, and the borders on either side
of the path were full of spring flowers. Flowers, too, were in boxes on
the ledges of the windows, and the diamond panes of the lattices bright
and clear.

Jack noticed all these little details, and the gambols of two grey
kittens in the porch, an old dog lying, with his nose on his paws,
entirely regardless of his frisky neighbours.

Presently a maid-servant brought out an easy-chair and a cushion, and
was followed by two figures--his mother, leaning heavily on the arm
of--Betty, her poor head shaking tremulously, and her querulous voice
raised in some complaint about the position of the chair.

Betty! But was it Betty? There had been many changes in ten years, but
as Jack's eyes, shaded by his hand, examined the figure leaning over
his mother's chair and gently arranging the cushions, his heart gave a
great bound, and then seemed to stop beating. He clenched the gate for
support, and knew that he was looking at his lost love--Bryda.

The gate gave a sharp click as his heavy hand grasped it, and Bryda
looked up. She came swiftly down the path and said,--

'Can I do anything for you? You look--' Then, with a sudden radiance
illuminating her beautiful face, she exclaimed, 'Jack, I am so glad!'

Jack was still mastered by the strength of his emotion, and was
speechless, his broad chest heaving, and the words he would have spoken
refused to be uttered.

Yes, it was Bryda. The girl had changed into the woman, but except an
added sweetness and refinement in her face she was the idol of Jack's
dreams.

'Come outside, please,' she said, laying her little hand on his and
pushing open the gate. 'Your mother could not bear the shock of joy your
return would give her. I must prepare her for it. Come round to the
garden behind and sit down in the arbour. You look so ill, Jack, I must
fetch you something.'

He found his voice at last.

'Are you married, Bryda?'

'Married! Oh, no. I will tell you all if you will only come and rest.
Ma