this. The writer had returned from his undertaking,
and had returned successful--successful beyond his wildest hopes--this
was emphasised--and would follow on upon the letter at the very earliest
opportunity, not more than a couple of days later at the outside, he
hoped. And then, there were lines and lines of sweet love-words,
sweeter perhaps, certainly sweeter to her after weeks of supposed
bereavement than any he had ever before penned.

Again and again she read through the missive, examined the postmarks--
everything. No, there was no deception here--and in a couple of days he
would be with her once more. She must be patient, but--ah! how could
she be? It was as though that one had risen from the dead.

She sank into a low chair, a smile of ineffable happiness irradiating
her face. All the past was merely a dream, a nightmare--but--was she
not only dreaming now?

"Lalante, child, what's the matter?"

It was her father's voice--strained, tremulous. Seeing her like this
but one conclusion forced itself upon him--that her mind had given way
at last.

"The matter is that the news we heard wasn't true. _He_ will be here in
a couple of days," showing the letter.

"Oh, thank God for that," said Le Sage fervently--and he was anything
but what is called a pious man.

"What if he is coming back as he went, father?" said Lalante, who could
not forbear a spice of retaliatory mischief in her hour of restored
happiness.

"Oh, I don't care--so he comes back; no I don't--not a damn. I can't
see my little girl looking as the has looked all this infernal time.
And yet--" He broke off suddenly.

"Well he isn't. He says he's been successful beyond his wildest hopes."

"Oh thank the Lord again," said Le Sage, in a curiously constrained
voice. "Does he give particulars?"

"No. Bother particulars. The great thing is he's coming at all--isn't
it?"

"Oh of course. That's how women look at things. They don't know any
better--how should they!"

"Well why should they?" retorted Lalante with a happy laugh. "Now look
here, old man, you'll be civil to him won't you?"

"Oh yes, I'll be glad to see him. Will that do for you? Oh it's a
devilish queer world when all's said and done--a devilish queer world,"
and the speaker turned away abruptly to bury himself in his own den.
But the girl thought to detect a shade of relief in his tone, even in
his look--as though something had occurred to clear up the despondency