You will not have to come downstairs, dear; we are all on one floor.

We only had one room and the waggon and a tent first; but others have been added, one at a time.

I ought to go now, but it is so hard to leave you, my dear." She kissed him lovingly again--they were the first kisses she had pressed upon his lips for over five years--and then she hurried out.
"Hah!" sighed Nic; "I wish I knew that father was safe." Then, stiff and with his hand trembling from his long ride, he took up the comb to smooth his hair.
"Might as well sit down," he said; and he sank back on the bed.

"How soft! Feathers! And the pillow--how cool! Cheeks burn so," he muttered, as he subsided on the restful couch to gaze sidewise at the window with its little sill and flowers growing in a box, all fresh, bright and fragrant.
"I like flowers," he said softly, and then--"Hah!" He was breathing softly.
The bow strained tightly for so many hours was now unstrung.

Every nerve and muscle were relaxed, and the soft, pure air which came through the open window played upon his scorched cheeks.
The horse was swinging along in that easy canter out of the burning sunshine into the shade--a soft, cool, delicious, restful shade--on and on and on toward the Bluff; and Nic felt that there was no more care and trouble in the world.