“I have nothing to forgive,” answered Marcus; “you did what you thought right.”
“Nay, I did what pleased me,” answered Charles. “But tell me who is living and who is dead?”
At this moment Loïs came out of the house.
“Oh, Charles, my brother!” and her arms were round his neck.
The three stood there in the snow, so deeply moved they could give no utterance to their feelings, and Bob leapt around them, giving vent to his delight in short, sharp barks.
“Come in,” said Loïs. “We have so much to tell you.”
“My mother, the children?” said Charles.
“Are unhurt,” said Loïs.
“And Father Nat?”
“Ah! that is the worst of all; still, he is living. Come,” and she drew him across the threshold of what had been his home; and as he stood once more in the old familiar place, the glamour fell from his eyes, and he exclaimed bitterly,—