As he approached, he saw a little white face pressed close against the window-pane, and he knew that Dora was watching for him; and his heart ached for her, for he felt that thus she had been watching every day since he left her, nearly a week ago.
He sprang lightly up the step, just as the door opened, and his child-bride threw herself sobbing into his arms.
“There, Dora, darling, do not cry. I could not come before,” he said, while his own lip quivered.
“Oh, Robbie, I thought you never would come again, and I have watched every day till it got so dark that my eyes ached.”
She hugged him tight, and sobbed afresh from joy at seeing him.
“Is your mother at home, Brightie?” he asked, when she grew quiet again.
“No; she went out to see a sick lady, and oh, Robbie, I was so lonely, I thought my heart would break.”
“Well, then, let us go into the house, for I have something to tell you.”
He put his arms around her and drew her in. He sat down and took her in his lap, clasping her close in his arms, while a great lump rose in his throat and almost choked him as he thought it was the last time.
“Robbie,” she asked, softly patting his face with her little hand, “you aren’t sorry yet, are you?”