The day was so bright and beautiful that the preceding storm seemed only to have added freshness to both the earth and sky.

The hills rose up majestic in their richest verdure, the lovely bay was at rest in the sunshine, and the long white line of distant water shone out tranquilly, as if no treacherous wind would ever again lash it into fury.

Grantley Mellen stood with his wife on the broad stone portico, looking towards the ocean. They had been wandering over the house and grounds that the master might see what changes had taken place in his absence, talking pleasantly and gaily, though even in the midst of his happiness the old restless suspicion would intrude. Grantley Mellen could not understand the strange agitation of his wife at his return. It troubled him even in his newborn joy. She was quite herself this morning; so lovely in her delicate mauvÉ morning dress, with the soft lace relieving her neck and wrists. Her dark hair was banded smoothly back from the grave, earnest face, and fell behind in heavy braids, rich and glossy as the plumage of a raven. Her mouth was tremulous with gladness and her whole face kindled into smiles and blushes under her husband's gaze. She was so calm that it seemed folly to vex his heart with vague fancies, instead of yielding to the full, rich joy of the occasion.

But she was changed: his jealous eyes took note of that. She was paler, thinner; there was a single line between the dark brows that had gathered there during his absence; an added gravity about the mouth, a slight compression of the lips, as if they had grown accustomed to keeping secrets back.

Then with one of those quick transitions of feeling peculiar to a mind like his, he reproached himself for that change. Why search for other reasons when he remembered many things which had preceded their parting; the last restless year of their married life, disturbed by jealousy and suspicion; the long months of loneliness which she had spent during his absence. There was answer enough for all the questions with which he had vexed himself all the morning.

"Of course Elsie will come home in the afternoon boat," he said.

"Oh, yes; I don't think it is in yet—I have not heard the whistle," replied Elizabeth. "Our people will send her across the bay in a sail-boat, no doubt. It is shameful of them to leave the shore road in the state it is; we must either go to the village by water, or take that long out-of-the-way back road."

"There is a sail-boat now," exclaimed Mellen, pointing across the bay.

Elizabeth looked and saw the tiny streamers shining like silver traceries in the sun.

"It must be Elsie," she said, bringing a glass from the hall, which Mr. Mellen took eagerly from her hand.

"Yes," he said. "I can see a woman in the boat—it is Elsie."

His face was all aglow with brotherly love; a sweet expectation kept him restless. He walked up and down the porch talking of his sister, asking a thousand trivial questions, and complaining of the slowness of the little boat.

Elizabeth stood leaning against one of the pillars, her eyes shaded with her hand, looking over the bright waters. The tranquillity and bloom faded out of her countenance, while her husband talked so eagerly of his desire to see the child—as he called her. Sometimes her face grew almost hard and stern, as if she could not endure that even this beloved sister should come between her heart and his in the first hours of their reunion.

The little sail-boat flew swiftly on before the wind—drawing nearer and nearer each instant—they could distinctly see the young girl half lying back in the stern, allowing her hand to fall in the water with an indolent enjoyment of the scene.

She saw them at last, fluttered her handkerchief in the air by way of a signal, and after that they could see how full of eager impatience she was. Every instant her handkerchief fluttered out, and when the wind took that, she unwound an azure scarf from her neck and flung it on the breeze.

When the boat neared the landing, Mr. Mellen ran across the lawn and received his sister in his arms as she sprang on shore.

Standing on the portico where he had left her, Elizabeth regarded the pair; she heard Elsie's eager exclamation of joy—her husband's deep voice—then the two blended in confused and eager conversation. An absolute spasm of pain contracted the wife's features; her eyes dilated, and a moan broke from her lips.

"He loves her so! he loves her so! He will believe anything she says," muttered Elizabeth in a tone which trembled with passionate emotions.

The sound of her own voice seemed to recall her recollection and the necessity of concealing these turbulent feelings. With that power of self-control which she was striving so hard to strengthen, in order to bear her life with calmness, she forced her features into repose, and stood quietly waiting for them to come up. There was nothing in her appearance now to betray agitation; her pallor seemed only the reflection of her mauvÉ draperies, and her lips forced themselves into a smile.

"There is Bessie," cried Elsie, coming up the lawn, clinging to her brother's arm with both hands, and shaking her long curls in the sunshine, till the sight of her loveliness and grace might have softened for the time even that heart filled with fear of her sisterly influence, and jealous of the love which she received with such caressing warmth.

"Oh, Bessie!" she cried, as they reached the steps, "I am so happy! When I got the news this morning I felt as if I must fly here directly. Oh, you darling brother, to come back at all; but you deserve to be punished for staying away so long!"

She raised herself on tip-toe to kiss him anew, allowed her bonnet to fall off, and her curls to trail in bright confusion over her shoulders; then she flew towards Elizabeth and showered a greeting of warm kisses on her face.

"Never mind that dark subject," she whispered; "we'll be happy now in spite of everything."

Again that singular look passed over Elizabeth Mellen's face; she listened and endured rather than returned the young girl's caress, but Mr. Mellen was watching his sister and did not observe it.

"And isn't he brown?" cried Elsie, rushing over to her brother again; "he looks like an Indian, don't he, Bess? Oh, you bad, bad boy, to stay so long."

Thus Elsie laughed and talked incessantly, begun a dozen sentences without finishing one of them, and was so demonstrative in her expressions of affection to both, so lovely in her youth and brilliant happiness, that it was no wonder her brother regarded her with that proud look; it seemed almost impossible that Elizabeth herself could help being won into happiness by her caressing ways.

"You'll never go away again—shall he, Bess? But isn't it luncheon-time? I could eat no breakfast for joy, but I do think I am hungry now."

Mr. Mellen laughed, and Elsie went on again.

"Oh, Grantley, I saw Dolf on the steamboat; he is coming over with your luggage. The ridiculous creature has more airs than ever. I wish you had forced him to come ashore in the pilot-boat, it would have been such fun, when he got among the breakers; but, oh dear! how frightened I was, hearing how near you were to getting in. It makes, me feel pale now!"

Here Elsie gathered up her bonnet and shawl, tossed her curls back, kissed her brother again, and ran, off, saying:

"I must go upstairs and brush my hair. Do come, Bessie; I never can do it myself."

"I must go and see what the servants are doing," Elizabeth said.

"Nonsense! Come with me."

Elsie caught her sister-in-law about the waist, waltzed away towards the stairs and forced her to ascend, while Mr. Mellen stood looking after them with a pleasant smile on his lips.