Mildred almost as precipitately sought her room.  A moment later Roger was ushered in, and he could scarcely believe his eyes.  The unconscious man, whom he at this time on the previous day believed dying, had his children on his lap, and was caressing them with every mark of affection.  Although he still appeared to be very much of an invalid, and his complexion had a sallow and unnatural hue, even in the lamplight, it was difficult to believe that twenty-four hours before he had appeared to be in extremis.  When he arose and greeted Roger with a courtesy that was almost faultless, the young fellow was tempted to rub his eyes as if all were a dream.  Mrs. Jocelyn, too, was full of cheerfulness and hope, and made him sit beside her while she thanked him with a cordiality and friendliness that seemed even tinged with affection.  If memory could be silenced there would be nothing to dispel the illusion that he looked upon a humble but happy home, unshadowed by any thought or trouble.  As it was, the illusion was so strong that he entered into the apparent spirit of the occasion, and he chatted and laughed with a freedom and ease he had never yet known in their presence.

“Where is Millie?” Mrs. Jocelyn suddenly asked.  “We must be all together on this happy occasion.  Minnie, call her, for I do not wish a moment of this long-deferred hour marred or clouded.”

“Millie,” cried the child, opening the door, “mamma wants you to come right away.  We are having a lovely time.”

“Don’t mind Millie’s ways,” said Mrs. Jocelyn, touching Roger’s arm and giving him a little confidential nod.  “You understand each other.”

These words, with her manner, struck Roger as peculiar in one who had ever seemed to him the embodiment of delicacy, but he was too inexperienced to gauge them properly.  When he turned, however, to bow to Mildred, who entered and took a seat in a distant corner, he was startled by her extreme pallor, but acting on Mrs. Jocelyn’s advice he tried to act as before, resolving, nevertheless, that if his presence continued to be a restraint on one for whom he was ever ready to sacrifice himself, he would speedily depart.  Belle was radiant in her reaction from the long, miserable day, and, with a child’s unconsciousness, gave herself up to her happiness.

“Millie shall rest as well as yourself, mamma, for she was up all night, and I’ll get supper and prove what a housewife I am.  Roger, if you do not swallow everything I prepare without a wry face, and, indeed, with every appearance of relish, I shall predict for you the most miserable old bachelorhood all your days.”

“I am afraid you will put Roger’s gallantry to a very severe test,” cried Mrs. Jocelyn gayly.  “Indeed, I fear we have not very much for supper except the warmest good-will.  Our poverty now, however, will not last long, for I feel that I can so manage hereafter as to make amends for all the past.  I can see that I am the one who has been to blame; but all that’s past, and with my clearer, fuller knowledge and larger opportunities I can do wonders.”