There was a sound of voices outside. Then the door was flung open, and Bernard Carrick entered, with a rather noisy greeting, catching his wife in his arms, and kissing her vehemently. Then he clasped his arms about Dilly, and threw her up, she was so small and light. She stretched out her hands to her mother.
"Don't, Bernard; you frighten the child. We have been waiting for you to come home. And now Dilly must go to bed."
She took her little girl by the hand. Bernard dropped in the big chair.
Barbe seldom undressed her now, but she did this night. Presently Daffodil said in an imperious tone, "Do you like my father? I don't. I like grandfather, and gran, and grandad sometimes, but not always. And—father——"
"Hush, dear. You will come to like him very much, I know, for I love him dearly. Now, say your little prayer and go to bed."
Barbe went out, poked the fire a little, put on another log, and then sat down by her husband, who had fallen into a heavy sleep. Had he given the country something more than his service these three years—his manhood, the tender and upright qualities that dominated him when he went away? Sandy Carrick was of the old school, strong and stalwart, and not easily overcome, although he could not be called dissipated in any sense. But Bernard had never been of the roystering kind. She prayed from the depths of her heart that he might be made aware of the danger. The fire dropped down again, and she roused with a sudden shiver, rising and looking intently at him. The flush was gone, he was pale and thin again. Then he opened his eyes and saw her standing there. After a moment he held out both hands, and clasped hers.
"Forgive me, Barbe," he said. "I ought not have come home to you like that, but they are a wild lot and I hadn't the strength to stand it after the months of privations. Zounds! what a head my father has! I haven't been indulging in such junkets. I wanted to come home alive to you and the little one. But I couldn't get away without offence and one goes farther than one can bear. Don't think I brought the detestable habit home with me, though many a poor fellow does yield to it and you can't blame them so much, either."
"No," she answered softly, and kissed him on the forehead, much relieved at his frankness. Then as an afterthought—"I hope you didn't quarrel with anybody."
"Oh, no. Party spirit runs high. A man who has never seen anything beyond an Indian skirmish thinks he could set the country on its feet by any wild plan. And here we have so many shades of opinion. Father's amuse me; I wonder how he and great-grandfather keep such amicable friends!"
"Oh, he has no one nearby to play a game of piquet with him. And the Duvernay temper is much milder. But you must be tired. Let us fix the fire for the night."