landscape the lights of the many-windowed mills gleamed steadily through the bare trees on every side.
Burley had not really been astonished at Aske's message. He had expected it. He knew Aske's heart by his own. He was certain that he would be as ready to acknowledge a kindness as he was prompt to resent an injury. Still, he felt that the interview was one requiring not only great kindness, but also great prudence. Under the pressure of circumstances, calling forth all the tenderness of his heart, he must not be tempted to resign the smallest claim of justice. "There's things he'll hev to hear, sick or not sick," he said to himself; "where I hev been wrong I'll say so, but I'll not give in where I hev been right."
Eleanor met him at the door, and his face glowed with pleasure to see her. This beautiful woman in silk and lace and jewels, with servants at her bidding, and the light of love and happiness on her face, was indeed his daughter. He put his memory of the white, sorrowful Eleanor, clothed in worn black garments, behind her for evermore. The entrance hall was in itself a beautiful apartment, with an
