"Perhaps the face will come," Adelaide said; and it came.
A few weeks later Mr. Armstrong returned with Jim from the western trip, and came down to the Pier to make the visit which his daughter so greatly desired. Adelaide had driven to the station for them in Milly's pony carriage, Jim mounted to his old place on the rumble, Mr. Armstrong settled himself for the drive, and Adelaide took the reins.
"I am going to take you around by the cottage, papa," she said. "I want to show you what I have done there, and how happy the Home children are."
Mr. Armstrong drew himself up, as though wincing from some sudden pain. "I did not intend to go there again, daughter," he said; "I shall miss a face at the window."
"I know, papa—the cameo; but she would have been glad to see the cottage used as it is."
They turned into the drive, and Mr. Armstrong nerved himself for the sight of his old home. Suddenly he cried out, and caught his daughter's arm. "Is it only memory, or have I lost my senses? The face is there!"
Adelaide laughed reassuringly. "I don't wonder that it gave you a turn, papa; it did me, too, when I saw the same sight in Miss Prillwitz's window last winter, but it is only dear Mrs. Halsey looking out for us."
"Then thank God!" exclaimed Mr. Armstrong, leaping from the vehicle and hurrying forward. "Do you not remember me? my own!—my wife!"
His wife remembered: the veil which had blinded her for years fell at the sight of her husband's face.
Happily the shock had not been as sudden as it seemed; during the time which she had spent in the cottage the conviction had grown upon her that this had been her home. She had asked Adelaide its history, and learning that it had been built for her mother, who had been drowned in the great steamboat disaster, a hope had sprung up in her heart, which she dared not express to any one, that she had found her own again. Adelaide had said that she expected her father, and Mrs. Halsey waited only to see his face to be assured of the truth.