"Maude!" he said in a low voice.

She did not move for a moment, but looked straight before her

wistfully, as if she could not trust her ears; then she turned and came

towards him, with something like fear on her face. The fear broke up,

as it were, and, stretching out her arms, she spoke his name--the

accents of love fighting with those of doubt and a joy that dreaded its

own greatness.

"Stafford! It is you!"

She pressed her hands to her heart for a moment, then she fell into his

arm, half fainting.

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