"Anne hath opened her eyes and spoken," said she, weeping. "She is quite herself, but I fear—"
Master Lucas hastily obeyed the summons, and the moment he entered the room he saw the state of the case.
Anne's eyes were open and rational, but that awful shadow rested upon her face which once seen cannot be mistaken.
"My dearest daughter," was all her father could say, as he bent over her and took her hand.
"Jack?" whispered Anne, with a look of eager inquiry.
"I trust truly that he hath escaped and is in safety," whispered her father in return. "I have had a letter from him written on shipboard, and there is every reason to hope that both he and Arthur will make their way safely to Germany. He sent his love specially to you."
Anne smiled sweetly, and lay silent for a few minutes. Then she said faintly but clearly—
"Dear father, you have forgiven me?"
"As fully and truly as I hope myself to be forgiven, dear child."
"I have not been a good or dutiful daughter," said Anne slowly. "I have lived in a strange, foolish dream all my life, but I see all clearly now—how you have forgiven and borne with and pitied me all the time I was fancying myself so superior and learned and wise—so far above all the rest of you. But, father, I did try to serve God—"