sh vigour into his will;
come what might, he would now lose or win, there should be no middle
course. And at that moment a door opened, and from the room behind, the
light streamed into the inner entrance hall--and showed him some one
moving towards him. He could only distinguish, through the coloured
glass, that she was tall and dressed in blue; he heard her shut the
door behind her, and then everything in the corridor grew clouded and
confused. Who was this? A genuine fear came over him at a sudden
alarming thought; was the house full of people, and was he, perhaps,
the victim of some plot? Who could tell in what confusion of perplexing
circumstances he might find himself involved, what importunate
individuals he might come across here? These thoughts stirred a strong
spirit of indignation and resistance. Was it a fool's journey he had
undertaken? Not this time! He summoned all his powers of will and
determination, and was in the act of feeling in his pocket to make sure
of a weapon, when the large door opened and through the doorway he
saw--yes, without a doubt it was--Theresa Leaney, who, in a blue dress
and with pale face, now drew nearer to him.

He stood motionless, agitated and dismayed.

The door between them stood wide open, and for an instant they remained
one on either side of the threshold. Outside as well as within the
house, all was as silent as themselves: and in this silence she held
her right hand towards him. A sudden thrill shook him. He stretched out
his arms, and, with a wailing, plaintive sound, as of a stringed
instrument struck unawares, rushed into her wide-open arms. Then,
taking her by both hands, he led her to the sofa, took her on his knee,
buried his face in her bosom, and, pressing her tightly to him, lifted
her in his strong arms, and finally, placing her beside him once again,
with his head upon her breast, let his tears flow unrestrained. Still
without a word of explanation, he threw himself upon his knees before
her and gazed up into the face, that now smiled down on him in
wondering admiration. Then, indeed--and the experience was all
essential to his future happiness--did Giuseppe Mansana feel himself
humiliated, vanquished! Purified and humbled, his eyes filled with
gratitude, he looked up once more and was greeted silently, not by
Theresa, but by his own mother, who stood behind her!

He and Theresa rose and turned towards her, and involuntarily he took
her hands between his ow