It was Christmas morning at Cliffdene, and snow lay deep upon the ground, while the boom of the sea, lashed into fury by howling winter winds, filled the air, but within all was light, and warmth, and joy.

A few days ago the Clarkes had come home, with their daughter Liane restored to health after weary weeks of illness and nervous prostration from her terrible beating at Granny Jenks\' hands and the subsequent exposure in the cold cellar.

They called her Liane still, because the name of Roma was associated with so many unpleasant things that they had no wish for her to bear it.

Mr. Clarke had spent a thrilling hour making clear to his wife all the happenings of the past eighteen years, but she had borne the shock better than he expected. Her love for Roma, never as strong as the maternal love, though carefully fostered, died an instant death when she heard the story of the girl\'s terrible crimes. Bitter tears she shed, indeed, but they were for her own[Pg 315] daughter\'s sufferings in those cruel years while she had been kept back from her own.

"We will make it up to her, my darling, by devotion now," cried her husband, kissing away her tears; then they hastened to the bedside of Liane, for she could not be moved yet from her humble abode.

After several days of unconsciousness she began to improve, and in a week was able to have the truth carefully broken to her by her own mother, who with Sophie Nutter shared the task of nursing her back to health. Doctor Jay was sent for to assist with his medical skill, and great was his joy to find her restored to her own, and so beautiful and worthy, in spite of the rearing she had had from brutal granny, the miserable old hag, who was so crushed by the contempt and scorn of every one that she sought consolation in the bottle and drank herself to death in a week, expiring miserably in a hospital.

As soon as Liane was well enough to see a visitor Mrs. Carrington called.

"Do you remember me, my dear?" she asked, and Liane murmured:

"I sold you gloves."

[Pg 316]

"Yes, and fascinated me at the same time. I have been in love with you ever since."

Lyde wondered at the sudden blush on the girl\'s cheek as Liane thought within herself that she would be glad if Lyde\'s brother only loved her also.

As for him, of course, she did not see him till she left her room, but flowers came for her every day—great red roses, breathing the language of love—and on the day before they went to Cliffdene, her devoted mamma said:

"Dear, if you feel well enough, I should like you to send a kind little note to Jesse Devereaux, thanking him for the flowers he has been sending every day."

"I will write," Liane replied, with a blush and a quickened heartbeat, and her fond mother added:

"Jesse is a fine............