“No, no!  She could only bring joy wherever she went—­no matter who her parents were, or how she was born, my poor little one!—­she has suffered for no fault at all of her own!”

He listened to the dying clamour of the storm—­the wind still careered round the house, making a noise like the beating wings of a great bird, but the rain was ceasing and there was a deeper sense of quiet.  An approaching step startled him—­he looked up and saw Priscilla.  She smiled encouragingly.

“Cheer up, Mister Robin!” she said. ...  “She is much better—­she knows where she is now, bless her heart!—­and she’s glad to be at home.  Let her alone—­and if she ’as a good sleep she’ll be a’most herself again in the morning.  I’ll leave my bedroom door open all night—­an’ I’ll be lookin’ in at ’er when she doesn’t know it, watchin’ her lovin’ like for all I’m worth! ... so don’t ye worry, my lad!—­there’s a good God in Heaven an’ it’ll all come right!”

Robin took her rough work-worn hands and clasped them in his own.

“Bless you, you dear woman!” he said, huskily.  “Do you really think so?  Will she be herself again?—­our own dear little Innocent?”

“Of course she will!” and Priscilla blinked away the tears in her eyes—­“An’ you’ll mebbe win ’er yet!—­The Lord’s ways are ever wonderful an’ past findin’ out—­”

A clear voice calling from the staircase interrupted them.

“Priscilla!  Robin!”

Running to answer the summons, they saw Innocent at the top of the stairs, a little vision of pale, smiling sweetness, in her white wool wrapper—­her hair falling loose over her shoulders.  She kissed her hands to them.

“Only to say good-night!” she said,—­“I know just where I am now! —­it was so foolish of me to forget!  I am at home—­and this is Briar Farm—­and I feel almost well and—­happy!  Robin!”

He sprang up the stairs and, kneeling, took one of her hands and kissed it.

“That’s my true knight!” she said.  “Dear Robin!  You deserve everything good—­and if it will give you joy I will marry you!”

“Marry me!” he cried, scarcely believing his ears—­“Innocent!  You will?—­Dearest little love, you will?”

She looked down upon him where he knelt, like some small compassionate angel.

“Yes—­I will!—­To please you and Dad!—­Tomorrow if you like!  But you must say good-night now and let me sleep!”

He kissed her hand again.

“Good-night, sweet!”

She started—­and drew her hand away.

“He said that once,—­and once—­in a letter—­he wrote it.  It seemed to me beautiful!—­’Good-night, sweet!’” She waited as if to think a moment, then—­

“Good-night!” again she said—­“Do not be anxious about me—­I shall sleep well!  Good-night!”

She waved her hand once more, and disappeared like a little white phantom in the dark corridor.

“Does she mean it, do you think?” asked Robin, turning eagerly to Priscilla—­“Will she marry me, after all?”