On their return, he bade her lie down on the sofa in her boudoir and rest, averring that she looked languid and unlike herself.

“To please you,” she said, obeying the mandate with a smiling glance up into his face.

“That’s a good child!” he responded, sitting down beside her and smoothing her hair with fond, caressing hand.  “Now, what shall I do to please you?”

“Stay here, close beside me, and hold my hand, and talk to me.”

“Very well,” he answered, closing his fingers over the hand she put into his, then lifting it to his lips.  “How your face has changed, love, since that frightened look you gave me when I came in with the lamp last night.”

“How frightened and ashamed I was, Ned!” she exclaimed, tears springing to her eyes; “I felt that you had a right to beat me if you wanted to, and I shouldn’t have said a word if you’d done it.”

“But you couldn’t have feared that?” he said, with a pained look, and coloring deeply.

“No, oh, no, indeed!  I know you would never do that, but I dreaded what you might say, and did not at all expect you would be so kind and forgiving and loving to me.

“But how was I brought up here?  I knew nothing from the instant you were at my side on the door-step till I saw you coming in with the lamp.”

“In your husband’s arms.”

“What a heavy load for you to carry!” she said, looking at him with concern.

“No, not at all; I did it with perfect ease, except for the darkness and the fear that you might recover consciousness on the way and scream out with affright before you discovered who your captor was.”

“My husband, my dear, kind husband!” she murmured, softly stroking his face as he bent over her to press a kiss upon her forehead.

“My darling little wife,” he returned.

Then after a moment’s silent exchange of caresses,

“Would you mind telling me where you were going and what you intended to do?” he asked with a half smile.

“I have no right to refuse, if you require a full confession,” she said, half playfully, half tearfully, and blushing deeply.

“I don’t require it, but should like to have it, nevertheless; for I confess my curiosity is piqued,” he said with an amused, yet tender look and tone.

“There isn’t really very much to tell,” she sighed, “only that because I was dreadfully unhappy and had worked myself up to believing that I was a hated wife, a burden and annoyance to my husband, I thought it would be an act of noble self-sacrifice to run away, and—­O Ned, please don’t laugh at me!”

“I am not laughing, love,” he said in soothing, half-tremulous tones, taking her in his arms and holding her close, as he had done the night before.  “How could I laugh at you for being willing to sacrifice everything for me?  But that’s not all?”

“Not quite.  It came to me like a flash about the stage passing so near at two o’clock in the morning, and that I could get away then without being seen, and after I was in it make up my mind where I would get out.”