Gates drew open the front door of the mansion before John alighted and conducted him straight to the Colonel, in the library. The old man, who had been standing in the window expecting his arrival, came across the room and gripped his hand. He looked into John's face, then smiled. There was conviction in his voice.
"Yes," he said. "You're a Treves in everything except name."
There was much to talk about. In the first place the Colonel spoke of Elaine always as his daughter-in-law. She had completely won his heart.
"This gives me a new lease of life, my boy," he said to John. Then the smile that was so attractive in him lit up his face. "And when that lease is run out she shall have all that is mine just as she would have had if my boy had lived." The Colonel laid his hand on John's shoulder.
"John, my boy," he said, "your attention's wandering, it isn't me you want to hear talking, so I'll take myself off now."
He went out of the room, and John, walking to the window, looked for a moment upon the autumn scene outside. Then a sound came to him, and he turned to see Elaine, radiant yet doubtful, and strangely shy—looking like spring in autumn.
For a moment John was still; then he hurried across the room and took her hands in his.
"Elaine," he whispered, "is everything forgotten and forgiven?"
Elaine lifted her eyes to his. She was ten times more beautiful at that moment than the image he had treasured in his heart.
"There is nothing to forget, and nothing to forgive, John," she said quietly.