Six months had passed since Diana and Hal had left him, and until now the West with its memories had held him. He had written that he would be with them on this day, but he wished to return quietly. Only Diana and the child knew of his expected arrival.
The soft summer heat had brought into blossom every wild flower in glen and roadway; the great trees seemed heavy with the fragrant breezes that wafted through their leaves. As he had gone from home, so he wished to return to it—alone. A tumult of emotions battled within him as he approached the entrance to the Towers. He found the heavy doors opened wide as though expectant of a visitor. As he stood on the threshold the clock of the church-tower struck twelve. It was noon—the high noon of his life.
From the hall he heard a voice cry, "Welcome home, daddy!"
He turned to see his boy, changed even during the short separation—but stronger, more beautiful, a veritable princeling—holding out his eager little arms. And his boy, standing alone in the great hallway of the home of their ancestors, welcomed Jim to his own. As he held the child close to him, his eyes searched for Diana, and as the boy rained kisses on his face, Jim said:
"Cousin Di—where is she?"
The child smiled, and, slipping down to the ground, took hold of his father\'s hand and started to draw him down the corridor that led to the garden.
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