Two days only was I permitted for my visit.  Would Miss Axtell expect me? or had she, it might be, forgotten that she had asked my presence?

My father had not forgotten the obligation of the ring of gold; he made allusion to it in the moment of parting, and I felt it tightening about me more and more as the miles of sea and land rolled back over our separation; and a question, asked long ago and unanswered yet, was repeated in my mental realm,—­“Canst thou bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion?” and I said, “I will not try.”

It was evening when I arrived at the parsonage.  Sophie was full of sweet sisterly joy on seeing me, and of surprise when I told her what had occurred in our father’s house.  It was so unprecedented, this taking in a stranger whose name and home were unknown; for I could not tell Sophie my conviction that father had discovered who the patient was.

“Miss Axtell is almost well.”  Sophie gave the information before I found time to ask.  “She pleases to be quite charming to me.  I hope she will be equally gracious to you.”  And so I hoped.

From out the ark of the round year God sends some day-doves of summer into the barren spring-time, to sing of coming joys and peck the buds into opening.  One of His sending brooded over Redleaf when I walked forth in its morning-time to redeem my promise.

“Miss Percival!  I’m so glad!”

Katie showed me into the room that once I had been so much afraid of.  She did not long leave me there.

“Miss Lettie would like to see you in her room.”

Sophie was right.  She is almost well.

“Come!” was the sole word that met my entering in; then followed two small acts, supposed to be conventionalities.  Isn’t it good that all suppositions are not based upon truth?  I thought it good then.  I hope I may away on to the dawning of the new life.

This was my first seeing of Miss Axtell in her self-light.  She said,—­

“This is the only day that I have been down in time for breakfast,”—­she, who looked as if the fair Dead-Sea fruits had been all of sustenance that had dropped through the leaden waves for her; and an emotion of awe swept past me, borne upon the renewal of the consciousness that I had been made essential to her.

“I knew that you would come,” she continued.  “Oh!  I have great confidence in you; you must never disappoint me,—­will you?”—­and, playfully, she motioned me to the footstool where she had appointed me a place on the first night when she told me of her mother, dead.

I assured her that I should.  I must begin that moment by mentioning the time of my visit’s duration.

“How long?” and there was import in the tone of her voice.

“I must be at home to-morrow morning.”

“No reprieve?”

I answered, “None,”—­and turned the circlet of obligation upon my finger.