A flash of firelight illumined his face and she saw to her surprise that his usually enigmatic eyes held a look that completely transformed him. The explanation she had intended to make died on her lips. With a bewildered gesture she turned as if to leave the room; and at that moment they were interrupted. There was a knock, and the caretaker questioningly opened the door.
"If you please, Mrs. Hart," she began, "there's a strange young man down in the kitchen who is asking to see you."
"A young man?"
"Yes, a lad. My husband thinks he ain't just right, he's so sort of wild looking; but the boy says he's from your old home and nothing for it but he must see you."
"Why it's André!" Rachel cried in amazement, and, before the woman had finished speaking, she darted from the room.
Simon's voice pursued her: "Your clothing, change it first, I beg of you."
Rachel had vanished.
The next moment she was standing before André. Catching him by the arms, she shook him; then pressed her head to his shoulder. "Oh, André," she whispered, "Is it you—is it really?" And passing her arms about him, she clung to him.
The young fellow suffered the embrace and his hands hung motionless at his sides, though in his great eyes a spark kindled as he looked down at her.
"Tell me," she asked breathlessly, "how did you ever manage to find me—and what brings you, André dear? Explain—tell me everything, but not here," catching sight of the caretaker who had reëntered the kitchen. "Come to the front room where there is a fire.—Simon, this is André," she cried as they encountered her husband on his way through the hall. And taking the young fellow's hand, she placed it in Simon's.