The man of simple directness and no imagination saw only his wife before him--a little breathless, a little flurried, a little disheveled from rapid riding, as he had sometimes seen her before, but otherwise unchanged.

Nor had HE changed; he took her up where he had left her years ago.

His grave face only broadened into a smile, as he held both her hands in his.
"Yes, it's me--Lordy! Why, I was comin' only to-morrow to find ye, Sade!" She glanced hurriedly around her, "To--to find me," she said incredulously.
"Sartain! That ez, I was goin' to ask about ye,--goin' to ask about ye at the convent." "At the convent ?" she echoed with a frightened amazement.
"Yes, why, Lordy Sade--don't you see?
You thought I was dead, and I thought you was dead,--that's what's the matter.

But I never reckoned that you'd think me dead until Chivers allowed that it must be so." Her face whitened in the moonlight "Chivers ?" she said blankly.
"In course; but nat'rally you don't know him, honey.

He only saw you onc't.