running to meet him. Lucy Ashford stood at the door and looked after
him wistfully. "Poor John," she murmured, as she went back to clear
away the tea-things. "What would he do to me, if he knew?" Her
thoughts went back to the great secret of her life. It was that which
caused her strange nervousness. She had repented of the past truly
enough, and no better wife could have been found throughout the
kingdom; but the secret had eaten into her life. She strove now to
put it away from her; for she knew she was in reality safe enough.
Only her father
and Mr. Vermont knew--and the latter she had
not seen for years. Now, therefore, she put away her cups and saucers
and called gaily to the children, as they came running back. The girl
who had been playing
with them came too; and as she approached the cottage she raised her
head and smiled. Lucy Ashford
stooped to kiss the children, then said kindly to Jessica--for it was
indeed she: "I expect you are tired with them now, my dear. Come and
sit down with me
for a little while." Jessica raised her dark eyes gratefully. "No,
ma'am, thank you. I'm not tired. I love the children; they are so
good to me." Lucy's eyes shone. What mother does not believe that her
children are the best in the world? She had been like an angel of
mercy to the tired girl when her husband had brought
her into the little home. She had put her to bed, fed her, and
clothed her in old things of her own; and she had neither questioned
nor worried
her since. Jessica, only too thankful to find a home for the present,
and realising the hopelessness of her strange passion for
Adrien Leroy, had done wha
