I am going to lose my brother?"

"No--if that were all. But you have often said how impossible it was
that we should always keep together. It is only what we have been
expecting, and we might have parted in much more trying circumstances.
I shall be home often--once a year at the least; perhaps oftener."

"Yes, dear, I know."

"Well, then, I think there is no cause for grief in my going, even if I
were worthy of it, which I very much doubt."

Graeme's face did not brighten. In a little while her tears were
falling fast.

"Graeme, what is it? There is some other reason for your tears, besides
my going away. You do not trust me, Graeme, you are afraid."

Graeme made an effort to quiet herself.

"Yes, Harry, I am a little afraid, since you give me the opportunity to
say so. You have hardly been our own Harry for a while, as you know,
dear. And what will you be when you are far from us all? I am afraid
to let you go from me, Harry, far more afraid than I should be for
Will."

Harry rose and walked about a while, with an air that seemed to be
indignant; but if he was angry, he thought better of it, and in a little
he came and sat down beside his sister again.

"I wish I could make you quite satisfied about me, Graeme."

"I wish you could, dear. I will try to be so. I daresay you think me
unreasonable, Harry. I know I am tired, and foolish, and all wrong,"
said she, trying in vain to keep back her tears.

"You look at this moment as though you had very little hope in
anything," said Harry, with a touch of bitterness.

"Do I? Well, I am all wrong, I know. There ought to be hope and
comfort too, if I sought them right. I will try to leave you in God's
keeping, Harry, the keeping of our father's and our mother's God."

Harry threw himself on his knees beside her.

"Graeme, you are making yourself unhappy without cause. If you only
knew! Such things are thought nothing of. If I disgraced myself the
other night, there are few young men of our acquaintance who are not
disgraced."

Graeme put her hand upon his lips.

"But, Graeme, it is true. I must speak, I can't bear to have you
fretting, when there is no cause. Even Allan Ruthven thought nothing of
it, at least, he--"

"Hush, Harry, you do not need Mr Ruthven to be a conscience to you.
And it is not of the past I am thinking, but the future! How can I bear
to think of you going the way so many have gone, knowing the danger all
the greater