“Has the mail come in?” she asked, thinking it was a servant.

But there was no answer.  The footsteps came nearer, and some one bent down over the old man’s chair.

“Father!” exclaimed a manly voice.

Lady Constance uttered a low cry, and Lord Barminster sprang to his feet exclaiming.

“Adrien, my boy!”

“Yes, father, it is I,” said Leroy, his voice hoarse with emotion.  Then he turned to Constance, who was gazing at him with tears of joy in her eyes.

“Constance, my darling,” he said gently.  “Will you forgive me my long neglect of you?  My eyes have seen you through all the darkness of these weary months.  I have hungered for you all the time, and now I have come into the light, I want you for my own.”

As he spoke he drew her unresistingly within his arms, and the old man, with one loving backward look, stole silently away to apprise Miss Penelope of the joyful news.

A month later the church of Windleham was all ablaze with winter flowers, while crowds of happy, rosy-cheeked children thronged the steps and porch, for it was the marriage day of Lady Constance Tremaine and Adrien Leroy.

There were no fashionable silk and satin-clad guests, or a body of mighty ecclesiastics to perform the ceremony.  The old rector, who had known them both from childhood, made them man and wife, while Lord Barminster gave the bride away.  She had chosen to be but simply dressed, and followed only by two bridesmaids—­sisters of Mortimer Shelton, who acted as best man.  Among the few guests there, were also Lord Standon and Lady Muriel Branton, soon now to be wedded themselves.

Adrien had explained the reason for his anger long ago, and Lord Standon too fully understood to continue the coldness which had nearly spoilt their life-long friendship.

Happy was the bride, that bright winter morning, and Adrien, as he felt her loved arm against his side, was filled gratitude and love.

“My darling,” he murmured as they emerged from the church, “we do not need the world, you and I. We have each other, that shall be world enough for us.”

“Not to the world do I owe you, Adrien,” said Lady Constance gravely, “but to another woman.”  Drawing him to the marble slab, which stood close to the porch, she bent down and placed her bridal bouquet of white roses on the grave of Jessica.  “But for her, life would have ended for both of us that summer day.”

Adrien was deeply moved by her remembrance of the child.

“My darling,” he said tenderly, “we have passed together through the dark shadows.  Let us enter now into the sunlight of our love.”

THE END

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