Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III. It was very early in the morning—the morning of the day after—when he threw open the boudoir door, and stood listening. The deserted corridor was full of the awakening sunlight, cool and golden, with a hundred glinting suggestions of glories to come. He drew the door to and locked it carefully on the outside. Then he hastened down the solemn stillness with the step of a man who has taken a great resolve. He went up straight to the nursery. Both rooms were deserted; bars of light fell between the shutters: from the inner chamber the child's cot had been removed, leaving an immense for- lornness behind it. The discovery came home to him with a shock—a sensation of something having happened, a change. Something that other people knew. They were acting, the outsiders. Life moved. On the stairs a frightened under-maid met him, and sank away, white, from his white face, into the dusk. He asked calmly enough where the child was. In the breakfast-room? He went there, dully surprised. All curtains were already drawn back—here at the back of the house—the room was as full of light and brightness as possible. Nurse Lintot sat droning a fairy tale. Close up against the woman's arm lay little Margaret, still in her cot, white-garmented, attentive. "And the King said to the golden-haired Princess: But why is your name Misfortune?" The father stood in the doorway; Nurse Lintot dropped her book. "Papa!" cried little Margaret. There was a glad note in her voice; he caught it, and for the first time a sob rose to his throat. "Come," he said, beckoning, "I want you to come at once." She crept out of bed, obedient, and took his hand. "Put something on her feet," he said gently, and led her away slippered, barelegged. Nurse Lintot, shaking against the doorpost, wat... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.