In truth her mother was not beautiful, but sweet enough to drag a man's soul through the gates of death with her, and not leave go her hold upon him till he followed.
So Angela lay upon her bed quite happy. "Father's comrade," that was what she would be. She fell asleep to dream of it, and then awoke with a start, as though something had happened. What had she heard? She did not know; only something had awakened her—some noise. She jumped from her bed, cast a wrapper about her. There were confused voices in the nurse's room—the old nurse and the fellow-servant talking excitedly together. She heard them asking each other, "What did you hear?" So they, too, did not know what had happened. Her first thought was for her father. She must go to him, and see if he was in danger. She ran downstairs upon her little bare feet, and paused at the study door.
There was no sound. But at the hall door came a soft knocking. Could this have been the noise that woke her? She opened it slightly, and asked who was there.
"It is I, Alfred Donaldson," the young man said, coming into the hall. "Angela, what is
