st
birthday. Only one other person thought of it. Even Miss Sara did not.
Miss Sara remembered Marcella only as a child that had been loved and
lost. Nobody else in Bridgeport thought about her at all. The doctor
came in that evening. He had a rose in his buttonhole and he walked
with a step as light as a boy's.

"She is free to-day," he said. "We shall soon have her again, Miss
Tranquil."

"Do you think she will be the same?" I said.

I don't know what made me say it. I hate to be one of those people who
throw cold water on other peoples' hopes. But it slipped out before I
thought. I suppose the doubt had been vaguely troubling me always,
under all my faith in Marcella, and now made itself felt in spite of
me.

But the doctor only laughed.

"How could she be changed?" he said. "Some women might be--most women
would be--but not Marcella. Dear Miss Tranquil, don't spoil your
beautiful record of confidence by doubting her now. We shall have her
again soon--how soon I don't know, for I don't even know where she is,
whether in the old world or the new--but just as soon as she can come
to us."

We said nothing more--neither of us. But every day the light in the
doctor's eyes grew brighter and deeper and tenderer. He never spoke of
Marcella, but I knew she was in his thoughts every moment. He was much
calmer than I was. I trembled when the postman knocked, jumped when
the gate latch clicked, and fairly had a cold chill if I saw a
telegraph boy running down the street.

One evening, a fortnight later, I went over to see Miss Sara. She was
out somewhere, so I sat down in her little sitting room to wait for
her. Presently the doctor came in and we sat in the soft twilight,
talking a little now and then, but silent when we wanted to be, as
becomes real friendship. It was such a beautiful evening. Outside in
Miss Sara's garden the roses were white and red, and sweet with dew;
the honeysuckle at the window sent in delicious breaths now and again;
a few sleepy birds were twittering; between the trees the sky was all
pink and silvery blue and there was an evening star over the elm in my
front yard. We heard somebody come through the door and down the hall.
I turned, expecting to see Miss Sara--and I saw Marcella! She was
standing in the doorway, tall and beautiful, with a ray of sunset
light falling athwart her black hair under her travelling hat. She was
looking past me at Doctor John and in her splendid eyes was the look