ed her tripping feet.
Under her shady hat with its pink rose, her eyes glanced timidly
towards the house, and then withdrew themselves again. Fenwick saw
that the eyes were in truth darker than Phoebe's, and the hair much
darker--no golden mist like her mother's, but nearer to his own--a
warm brown, curly and vigorous. Her face was round and rosy, but so
delicately cut and balanced, it affected him with a thrill of delight.
He perceived also that she was very small--smaller than he had
thought, in the theatre. But at the same time, her light proportions
had in them no hint of weakness or fragility. If she were a fairy, she
was no twilight spirit, but rather a cheerful dawn-fairy--one of those
happy household sprites that help the work of man.

He went and opened the door for them, trembling.

Carrie saw him there--paused--and then walked on quickly--ahead of
Miss Mason.

'Father!' she said, gravely, and looking at him, she held out her
hand.

He took it, and then, drawing her to him, he kissed her hurriedly.

Carrie's cheeks grew very red, and her eyes moist, for a moment. But
she had long since determined not to cry--because poor mummy would be
sure to.

'I guess you'll be wanting your tea,' she said, shyly, looking from
him to her mother; 'I'll go and see to it.'

Miss Anna came up behind, concealing as best she could the impression
made upon her by the husband and wife as they stood in the porch,
under the full western light. Alack! here was no happy meeting!--and
it was no good pretending.

[Illustration: _Robin Ghyll Cottage_]

Fenwick greeted her with little or no demonstration of any sort,
though he and she, also, had never met since the year of Phoebe's
flight. His sunken eyes indeed regarded her with a look that seemed to
hold her at bay--a strange look full of bitterness. She understood it
to mean that he was not there to lend himself to any sham sentimental
business; and that physically he was ill, and could stand no strain,
whatever women might wish.

After a few questions about his journey, Miss Anna quietly begged him
to come in and rest. He hesitated a moment, then with his hands in his
pockets followed her to the parlour; while Phoebe, with Carrie's arm
round her, went falteringly upstairs.

Miss Anna made no scene and asked for no information. She and Carrie
bustled to and fro, preparing supper. Fenwick at his own request
remained alone in the parlour. But when supper-time came, it was
e