d and Lady
Carbis.'

Lorna moved forward to speak to her visitors, but they did not notice
her. Both of them had fixed their gaze on Edgecumbe, who stood looking
at them with a light in his eyes which made me afraid.

'John!' cried Lady Carbis, her voice almost rising to a scream. 'Why,
it's Jack! our Jack!'

Never shall I forget the look on my friend's face. He seemed to be in
agony. It might be that he was striving to keep himself from going
mad. His eyes burnt with a red light, his features were drawn and
contorted. Then suddenly he heaved a deep sigh, and lifted his
shoulders, as though he were throwing a heavy weight from him.

'Mother!' he said hoarsely. 'Mother! When----? that is---- Why, I'm
home again!--and the little mater----'

Unheeding the fact of his damaged arm, he held out both his hands and
staggered towards her.

A second later, unconscious of watching eyes, they were in each other's
arms, while Lady Carbis murmured all sorts of fond endearments.

'My dead boy come back to life!' she cried. 'My little Jack
who--who--oh, thank God, thank God! Speak to me, Jack, my darling,
speak to your mother! Oh, help! What's the matter? Can't you see
that----'

I was only just in time to keep my friend from falling heavily on the
floor, and when a few seconds later I succeeded in lifting him to a
sofa, he lay like a dead man.

CHAPTER XXXIV

MEMORY

For some minutes wild confusion prevailed. Lady Carbis knelt by the
sofa, and called wildly on my friend to speak to her. Lord Carbis
talked incoherently, and made all sorts of impossible suggestions.
Evidently he was beside himself with joy and fear. Sir Thomas Bolivick
looked from one to another as if asking for explanations, while Lorna
Bolivick, with pale, eager face and wild eyes, stood like one
transfixed.

But she was the first to recover herself. Swiftly she went to the
sofa, and caught Edgecumbe's hand. Then she knelt down and placed her
ear to his heart.

'He is alive,' she said; 'his heart beats. I think he will soon be
better.'

'Yes, yes,' stammered Lord Carbis. 'He was always a strong boy--hard
as nails, hard as nails. Oh, it's wonderful, wonderful! It's my son,
my only son, Sir Thomas. I'd given him up for dead. It's years now
since--since he was last seen. Ah, look, his eyelids are quivering!
Stand back and give him air. But I can't understand. Where's he been
all this time? Why hasn't he let us know