ait by the fire? I shall tell Mrs. Wade."

"He'll be as welcome as the flowers in May, as the sayin' is," Mrs.
Horridge said, briskly pushing a chair for Terry nearer the fire and
lamplight. "An' plenty o' books to amuse you, sir, while your Ma's
upstairs."

Lady O'Gara left Terry in the cheerful room and went up the winding
staircase. As she entered Stella's room she had an idea that the place
had become more home-like with Mrs. Wade's presence. Mrs. Wade was
wearing the white dress of a nurse and a nurse's cap, the white strings
tied under her chin. The room was cosy in fire and lamplight and yet
very fresh. Stella was awake. She turned her head weakly on the
pillow and smiled at Lady O'Gara.

"My darling child, this is an improvement," Lady O'Gara said, quite
joyfully.

"My mother has come back," Stella whispered, and put out a thin little
hand to Mrs. Wade, who had stood up at the other side of the bed and
was still standing as though she waited for Lady O'Gara to bid her be
seated.

"I am very glad," Lady O'Gara said, and bent to kiss Stella's forehead.
It was cool and a little moist. The fever had quite departed.

"You should not have gone away and left her," she said reproachfully to
Mrs. Wade. "You see she cannot do without you."

"I shall not leave her again," Mrs. Wade said. "She chooses me before
all the world."

Oh, poor Terry! There was something of a definite choice in the words.
They meant that Stella had chosen her mother before all the world might
give her. And the poor boy was sitting just below them, bearing the
time of waiting with as much patience as possible, listening to the
sounds upstairs, his mother divined, with a beating heart.

"Won't you sit down?" said Lady O'Gara. "I cannot sit till you do."

"Thank you," replied Mrs. Wade, and sat down the other side of Stella.
Her profile in the nurse's cap showed against the lamplight. It was a
beautiful soft, composed profile, like Stella's own. And her manner
was perfect in its quiet dignity. A Nature's lady, Lady O'Gara said to
herself.

Lady O'Gara could not have told what inspired her next speech. It was
certainly not premeditated.

"My son is waiting for me downstairs in your pretty room."

Mrs. Wade bowed her head without comment on Terry's waiting. "We were
sorry to hear of the accident to Sir Shawn. I hope he is better," she
said.

How quietly they were talking! It might have been just conventional
drawin