weeks. During the winter her
visits to Vineyard Cottage were always few and far between. Michael had
driven her over a few days before Christmas, but she had not been there
since. She had heard that Mrs. Baxter had been ailing for some weeks,
and her conscience pricked her that she had not made an effort to see
her. She would have plenty of news to tell them, she thought: there was
Michael's fortune, and Gage's baby. Last time she had told them of her
engagement, and had promised to bring Cyril with her one afternoon. She
had tried to arrange this more than once, but Cyril had proposed that
they should wait for the spring.

Audrey enjoyed her walk, and it was still early in the afternoon when
she unlatched the little gate and walked up the narrow path to the
cottage. As she passed the window she could see the ruddy gleams of
firelight, and the broad back of Mr. O'Brien as he sat in his great
elbow-chair in front of the fire.

Mrs. Baxter opened the door. She had a crimson handkerchief tied over
her hair, and her face looked longer and paler than ever.

'Why, it is never you, Miss Ross?' she cried in a subdued crescendo.
'Whatever will father say when he knows it is you? There's a deal
happened, Miss Ross, and I am in a shake still when I think of the turn
he gave me only the other night. I heard the knock, and opened the door,
as it might be to you, and when I saw who it was--at least----Why,
father! father! what are you shoving me away for?' For Mr. O'Brien had
come out of the parlour, and had taken his daughter rather
unceremoniously by both shoulders, and had moved her out of his way.

'You leave that to me, Priscilla,' he said in rather a peculiar voice;
and here his great hand grasped Audrey's. 'You have done a good deed,
Miss Ross, in coming here this afternoon, for I am glad and proud to see
you;' and then, in a voice he tried in vain to steady: 'Susan was
right--she always was, bless her!--and Mat has come home!'

CHAPTER XXX

'I COULD NOT STAND IT ANY LONGER, TOM'

'The beautiful souls of the world have an art of saintly alchemy,
by which bitterness is converted into kindness, the gall of human
experience into gentleness, ingratitude into benefits, insults into
pardon.'--AMIEL.

'Mat has come home!'

Audrey uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure as she heard this
unexpected intelligence.

'Is it really true? Oh, Mr. O'Brien, I am so glad--so very glad! When
did