"Ah!" said Lord Barminster, "I am glad they are happy, they deserve all the pleasure they can get."
He sighed. "When does the African mail come in, my dear?" he asked as Lady Constance put away the letter she had been reading.
"To-night, usually," she returned with a sigh. A sudden flush rose to her cheek, rendering her face still more lovely while it lasted, but leaving her paler than ever when it had gone.
"Still wandering," said her uncle sadly; "surely, by now, Adrien ought to have forgotten the past."
"He'll never come back until he does," said Lady Constance softly.
"No," said her uncle, with a touch of pride. "He will not come back until he can take up a worthier life with a worthy love, Constance. Ring the bell, my dear, and inquire for the mail."
She obeyed him and returned to the fire again, placing her hand upon the old man's shoulder. Very beautiful she looked, as the bright gleam of the firelight illumined her face, more lovely now because of its tender, womanly expression; and the old man's gaze rested lovingly on her.
"When he comes back," he said musingly, "Adrien will find a sweet prize. He loves you, and his love will increase and endure."
Almost before he had finished speaking there came the sound of footsteps, and the door opened. The girl barely turned.
"Has the mail come in?" she asked, thinking it was a servant.