Weeping and sighing, Violet wrung her hands, and hid her anguished face in the lace-trimmed pillow. She had dared and risked so much to remove her hated rival from her path, and all had failed.
In the afternoon Ronald Valchester fell into a long, refreshing sleep. When he awakened, feeling wonderfully calmed and refreshed, his first question was for his little Lina.
"My dear, I do not think she has come yet," said the gentle mother, patiently watching by his bedside. "Be patient. She will come bye-and-bye."
"Mother, will you just step down and see if they have heard any more from her?"
Mrs. Valchester moved quietly away. The invalid lay still, with half-closed eyes, watching the last flickering beams of sunshine as they lay in golden bars upon the floor.
Then, although he had heard no footsteps, he saw the shadow of a woman lying across the sunbeams on the floor. He looked up quickly and saw a small, white figure in the doorway, with a wan, white face and great, dark eyes that looked at him sorrowfully yet eagerly.
"Lina, Lina, my darling!" he cried out, extending his eager arms toward her.