se of the
past sank again into the background, shadows that never faded quite
away, but that were not actualities pressing against her.

The news of Leam's home-coming created quite a pleasurable excitement
in the neighborhood, and the families flocked to Ford House to
welcome her among them as one of themselves, all anxious to see if
the Ethiopian of North Aston had shed her skin, if the leopardess had
changed her spots. They were divided among themselves as to whether
she had or had not. Some said she was charming, and like any one else,
but others shook their heads, and, like experts in brain disease,
professed to see traces of the old lunacy, and to be doubtful as to
her cure. At the worst, however, here she was--one of themselves whom
they must receive; and common sense dictated that they should make the
best of her, and hope all things till they proved some.

There was one among them whom Leam longed yet dreaded to meet. This
was Alick Corfield. She wondered what he knew, or rather what he
suspected, and she was anxious to have her ordeal over. But,
though Mrs. Corfield came, and was just the same as ever, bustling,
inquisitive, dogmatic, before ten minutes were over having put the
girl through her scholastic facings and got from her the whole of her
curriculum, yet Alick did not appear. He waited until after Sunday,
when he should see her first in church, and so nerve himself as it
were behind the barrier of his sacred office; but after Sunday had
passed and he had seen her in her old place, he called, and found her
alone.

When they met, and she looked into his face and laid her hand in his,
she knew all. He shared her secret, and knew what she had done. It was
not that he was either distant or familiar, cold or disrespectful,
or anything but glad and reverent; nevertheless, he knew. He was no
longer the boy adorer, her slave, her dog: he was her friend, and
he wished to make her feel that she was safe with him--known, in his
power, but safe.

"You are changed," he said awkwardly.

He thought of her as Leam, heard her always called Leam, but he dared
not use the familiar name, and yet she was not "Miss Dundas" to him.

"It is four years since you saw me," she said with a grave smile. "It
was time to change."

"But you are your old self too," he returned eagerly. He would have
no disloyalty done to the queen of his boyish dreams: what worm soever
was at its root, his royal pomegranate flower should be al