She caught Arthur’s hand again, and started towards the house; but she had not taken half a dozen steps before she halted suddenly, and whispered, “Oh, no, I forgot!  He is asleep, and we must not waken him now, we must wait!”

And then again the laughter broke out over her face, and she turned upon him, radiant.  “It is so wonderful!” she cried.  “It is so wonderful to be happy, to be free once more!  And after so much darkness—­oh, it is like coming out of prison!  Arthur, dear Arthur, just think of it!  And David will be so glad!” The tears started into the girl’s eyes; she turned away to gaze about her at the golden morning and to drink in great draughts of its freshness that made her bosom heave.  The life seemed to have leaped back into her face all at once, and the color into her cheeks, and she was more beautiful than ever.  “To think of being happy!” she panted, “happy again!  Oh, if I were not afraid of waking David, you do not know how happy I could be!  Don’t you think I ought to waken him anyway, Arthur?—­it is so wonderful—­it will make him strong again!  It is so beautiful that you, whom I have always been so fond of, that you should be David’s son!  And you can live here and be happy with us!  Arthur, do you know I used to think how much like David you looked, and wonder at it; but, oh, are you sure it is true?”

She chanced to think of the letter that had been left at her father’s, and exclaimed, “It must have been that!  You have been home, Arthur?” she added quickly.  “And while father was up here?”

“Yes,” said he, “I wanted to see your father—­I could not stay away from home any longer.  I was so very lonely and unhappy—­” Arthur stopped for a moment, and the girl paled slightly; as he saw it he continued rapidly:  “There was no one there but the servant, and she gave me the letter.”

“And did she not tell you about me?” asked Helen.

“I asked if you were married,” Arthur said; “I would not listen to any more, for I could not bear it; when I had read the letter I came up here to look for my poor mother.  I wanted to see her; I was as lonely as she ever was, and I wanted someone’s sympathy—­even that poor, beaten soul’s.  I heard in the town that she was dead; they told me where the grave was, and that was how I happened out here.  I thought I would see it once before I left, and before the people who lived in this house were awake.  Helen, when I saw you I thought it was a ghost.”

“It is wonderful, Arthur,” whispered the girl; “it is almost too much to believe—­but, oh, I can’t think of anything except how happy it will make David!  I love him so, Arthur—­and you will love him, too, you cannot help but love him.”

“Tell me about it all, Helen,” the other answered; “I heard nothing, you know, about my poor mother’s story.”