The salient feature in all their
discourse was her unflagging devotion to his memory.
Having apparently learned all that he wanted to know--among other
things that she was at this moment, as always, alone--the traveller
said he was quite dry; and thanking the servants for their kindness,
departed as he had come. On emerging into the darkness he did not,
however, go down the avenue by which he had arrived. He simply
walked round to the front door. There he rang, and the door was
opened to him by a man-servant whom he had not seen during his
sojourn at the other end of the house.
In answer to the servant's inquiry for his name, he said
ceremoniously, 'Will you tell The Honourable Mrs. Northbrook that
the man she nursed many years ago, after a frightful accident, has
called to thank her?'
The footman retreated, and it was rather a long time before any
further signs of attention were apparent. Then he was shown into
the drawing-room, and the door closed behind him.
On the couch was Laura, trembling and pale. She parted her lips and
held out her hands to him, but could not speak. But he did not
require speech, and in a moment they were in each other's arms.
Strange news circulated through that mansion and the neighbouring
town on the next and following days. But the world has a way of
getting used to things, and the intelligence of the return of The
Honourable Mrs. Northbrook's long-absent husband was soon received
with comparative calm.
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