The heart of the mother throbbed quicker at the word.

She went to the window, where the children crowded, feeling troubled, and yet with something of the old gladness about her heart.

She strained her eyes to see him, and yet dreaded to fix them upon him too intently, lest more should be seen than she wished to see.

He came nearer and nearer, and she was yet at the window, her heart beating audibly.

Could her eyes deceive her, or was it indeed so?
His form was erect and his step firm, and, though his clothes were the same, they did not look so untidy.
"Thank God!" she ejaculated silently, yet fervently, as he came nearer still--"he is sober." Yes, he was sober.
"Henry!" she could not say another word, as she took his hand when he came in.