to come with you; and then again, when I was gay in the sunshine, you
came, and only smiled but never beckoned; though your eyes seemed to me
very sad, and I wondered if mine would not also become sad through
looking in them so--are they sad, mother?" And she laughed up brightly
into her mother's face.

"No, dear; they are like the stars. You ask me for my part in that life.
I will tell you soon, but not now. Be patient. Do you not tire of this
lonely life? Are you truly not anxious to return to--"

"'To the husks that the swine did eat?' No, no, no; for, see: I was born
for a free, strong life; the prairie or the wild wood, or else to live in
some far castle in Welsh mountains, where I should never hear the voice
of the social Thou must!--oh, what a must! never to be quite free or
natural. To be the slave of the code. I was born--I know not how! but
so longing for the sky, and space, and endless woods. I think I never
saw an animal but I loved it, nor ever lounged the mornings out at
Holwood but I wished it were a hut on the mountain side, and you and
father with me." Here she whispered, in a kind of awe: "And yet to think
that Holwood is now mine, and that I am mistress there, and that I must
go back to it--if only you would go back with me.... ah, dear, isn't it
your duty to go back with me?" she added, hesitatingly.

Audrey Malbrouck drew her daughter hungrily to her bosom, and said: "Yes,
dear, I will go back, if it chances that you need me; but your father and
I have lived the best days of our lives here, and we are content.
But, my Margaret, there is another to be thought of too, is there not?
And in that case is my duty then so clear?"

The girl's hand closed on her mother's, and she knew her heart had been