orwich, than I got upon
horseback and rode over by myself to look upon my father and mother
again.

But as I came towards the house, the greater my longing was to enter
it again, so much the more was I daunted by a fearful apprehension of
the reception I should meet with, as well as of the changes which
might have been wrought during my absence. So that at the last I dared
not ride up boldly to the door, but came along softly, and dismounted
and tied my horse to the outer gate. After which I slipped inside
quietly, and round the side of the house to the window of the great
parlour, through which I could see the warm glow of a fire illuminate
the wintry mist without.

When I had come to the window I raised myself up till my head was on a
level with the bottom panes, and looked within.

The room held four persons. On one side of the fire sat my father,
seeming to be much older than I remembered him, in his great
arm-chair, with pillows at the back. Standing up on the opposite side
of the hearth was a figure which I quickly recognised for Mr. Peter
Walpole, though his back was towards me. It was Saturday night, and he
had plainly arrived a short time before me, from Norwich. Between the
two was my mother, sitting placidly as of old, and unchanged except
for a wistful sadness in her eyes, which it smote me to the heart to
notice, and beside her a young woman, scarce more than a girl, with a
singular sweet expression on her face, who was at first strange to me.

Mr. Walpole was speaking when I first looked in upon them.

"We are like to have more news from the East Indies. The _Norwich
Journal_ announces that a Company's ship has entered the Thames,
bringing news of a great victory over the Moors of Bengal."

My mother looked round sharply, and cried out--

"Tell me at once, Mr. Walpole, if you have heard anything of our boy?"

The good old man shook his head.

"No, no, ma'am, there is no news of that sort. I fear it will be long
before we hear of him. Indeed, it is but a chance that he is out in
the East Indies at all. We did but hear a rumour that he had been seen
in Calcutta."

My mother let her head droop upon her breast. The girl bent over to
her and laid her hand upon my mother's shoulder.

"Don't let yourself think that Athelstane has come to harm," she said
in a sweet, clear voice. (And if I had not recognised the face I
recognised the voice. It was my little playmate, Patience Thurstan.)
"I have a fait