n you walk up from the shore, or shall I send you a chaise?"

"I can walk, sir." He was too eager to consider his weakness, and
strong hands helping him into and out of the boat, in a few minutes, for
the distance was small, he was set ashore at the foot of the garden, now
bare and leafless. He dismissed the men with thanks, and declared he
required no further help. With much-needed care he limped up the slope,
too aware of pain and of an increase of weakness that surprised him, but
nevertheless with a sense of exhilaration at the thought of coming
home--yes, home--after having done what he well knew would please his
mother. No other thought was in his mind.

Of a sudden he heard voices, and, looking up, saw Mrs. Swanwick and
Margaret. Gay, excited, and happy, he stumbled forward as they came, the
girl crying out: "The vicomte, mother!"

"Ah, but it is good to see you!" he said as he took the widow's hand and
kissed it, and then the girl's, who flushed hot as he rose unsteadily.
Seeing her confusion, he said: "Pardon me. It is our way at home, and I
am so, so very glad to get back to you all!"

"But--thou art lame!" cried the widow, troubled.

"And his face--he is hurt, mother!"

"Yes, yes; but it is of no moment. We had a one-sided battle at sea."
Then he reeled, recovering himself with effort. "My mother is well?"

"Yes. Lean on me. Put a hand on my arm," said Mrs. Swanwick. "Ah, but
the mother will be glad!" And thus, the Pearl walking behind, they went
into the house. "Tell madame he is here, Margaret." The young woman went
by them and up-stairs to the vicomtesse's bedroom, breathless as she
entered in haste.

The vicomtesse said sharply: "Always knock, child."

"I forgot. He is come. He is here. I--we are so glad for thee."

"My son?" She rose.

"Yes, yes." Margaret fled away. It was not for other eyes; she knew
that. The vicomtesse met him on the landing, caught him in her arms,
kissed him, held him off at arm's-length, and cried. "Are you ill,
Rene?"

"No, no; a little hurt, not badly. I have lost blood," and then,
tottering, added faintly, "a wound, a wound," and sank to the floor. She
called loudly in alarm, and Schmidt, coming in haste from his room and
lifting him, carried him to his bedchamber. He had overestimated his
strength and his power of endurance.

Mother and hostess took possession of him. Nanny hurried with the
warming-pan for the bed; and reviving, he laughed as they came and went,