.

Ambrose North was there, no longer blind or dead, but well and strong
and able to see. He took Barbara in his arms when she went in, kissed
her, and called her "Constance."

A sharp pang went through her heart because he did not know her. "I'm
Barbara, Daddy," she cried out; "don't you know me?" But he only
murmured, "Constance, my Beloved," and kissed her again--not with a
father's kiss, but with a yearning tenderness that seemed very strange.
She finally gave up trying to make him understand that her name was
Barbara--that she was not Constance at all. At last she said, "It
doesn't matter by what name you call me, as long as you love me," and
went on upstairs.

[Sidenote: An Unfinished Tapestry]

One of the tapestries that hung on the wall along the winding stairway
was new--at least she did not remember having seen it before. It was in
the soft rose and gold and brown and blue of the other tapestries, and
appeared old, as though it had been hanging there for some time. She
fingered it curiously. It felt and looked like the others, but it must
be new, for it was not quite finished.

In the picture, a man in white vestments stood at an altar with his
hands outstretched in blessing. Before him knelt a girl and a man. The
girl was in white and the taper-lights at the altar shone on her two
long yellow braids that hung down over her white gown, so that they
looked like burnished gold. The face was turned away so that she could
not see who it was, but the man who knelt beside her was looking
straight at her, or would have been, if the tapestry-maker had not put
down her needle at a critical point. The man's face had not been
touched, though everything else was done. Barbara sighed. She hoped that
the next time she came to the Tower the tapestry would be finished.

[Sidenote: In the Violet Room]

She went into the violet room, for a little while, and sat down on a
green chair with a purple cushion in it. She took a great bunch of
violets out of a bowl and buried her face in the sweetness. Then she
went to the mantel, where the bottles were, and drenched her
handkerchief with violet water. She had tried all the different kinds of
cologne that were in the Tower, but she liked the violet water best, and
nearly always went into the violet room for a little while on her way
upstairs.

As she turned to go out, the Boy joined her. He was a young man now,
taller than Barbara, but his face, as always, was hidden from he