"No!" he said. "No, there is no answer!"
He went back to the stone seat and sat there, conscious that life and the world had changed suddenly for him. He dropped his chin onto his hand and sat staring, staring and seeing nothing.
He knew that once he had hoped that she might come and she had come and now he knew he was sorry and yet glad, with a strange gladness.
"Betty!" he said and said it aloud. "Betty——!" And saw her, not as he had seen her but a moment ago, but as he had seen her that first time in her picturesque flowered gown, so quaintly high waisted, the neck cut low to shew her slender white throat, the little mittened hands and the mob cap on her shining head.
But the face, the eyes, the lips, ah! they were the same!
He rose suddenly and seemed to shake himself mentally and physically. This was real life, this was the world all about him. There was no time for folly and for dreams—to-morrow the old house would be filled with visitors. He remembered the telegram suddenly and found it crushed into a ball in his hand. He opened it and smoothed it out and read it.
"It is from my wife's father," he said aloud, and then repeated the words as of some set meaning and for some known purpose, "my wife's father!"
CHAPTER XX
THE ROAD TO HOMEWOOD
Long ago before their marriage, Allan had promised to tell Kathleen if his dream maiden should ever come to him in real life. And she had come, yet he had not told his wife. To-morrow the old house would be filled with guests. Kathleen had much to do and much to think about, why trouble her now with this foolish story? After all the visitors were gone—why then—perhaps—but not now!