ok the other one from her lap, and stared at it in
much perplexity before she tore it open. We have seen its contents over
Mr. Worthington's shoulder, and our hearts will not stop beating--as
Cynthia's did. She read it twice before the full meaning of it came to
her, and after that she could not well mistake it,--the language being
so admirable in every way. She sat very still for a long while, and
presently she heard Ephraim go out. But Cynthia did not move. Mr.
Worthington relented and Bob recalled! The vista of happiness suddenly
opened up, widened and widened until it was too bright for
Cynthia's vision, and she would compel her mind to dwell on another
prospect,--that of the father and son reconciled. Although her
temples throbbed, she tried to analyze the letter. It implied that Mr.
Worthington had allowed Bob to remain away on a sort of probation; it
implied that it had been dictated by a strong paternal love mingled with
a strong paternal justice. And then there was the appeal to her: "You
will look with indulgence upon any acts of mine which sprang from a
natural solicitation for the welfare and happiness of my only child." A
terrible insight is theirs to whom it is given to love as Cynthia loved.

Suddenly there came a knock which frightened her, for her mind was
running on swiftly from point to point: had, indeed, flown as far as
Coniston by now, and she was thinking of that strange look of peace on
Jethro's face which had troubled her. One letter she thrust into her
dress, but the other she laid aside, and her knees trembled under her
as she rose and went into the entry and raised the latch and opened the
door. There was a moon, and the figure in the frock coat and the silk
hat was the one which she expected to see. The silk hat came off very
promptly.

"I hope I am not disturbing you, Miss Wetherell," said the owner of it.

"No," answered Cynthia, faintly.

"May I come in?"

Cynthia held open the door a little wider, and Mr. Worthington walked
in. He seemed very majestic and out of place in the little house which
Gabriel Post had built, and he carried into it some of the atmosphere
of the walnut and high ceilings of his own mansion. His manner of laying
his hat, bottom up, on the table, and of unbuttoning his coat, subtly
indicated the honor which he was conferring upon the place. And he eyed
Cynthia, standing before him in the lamplight, with a modification
of the hawk-like look which was meant to be