d him, and worried him with tantalizing glimpses, until he went
to sleep.

But Farnham was not a dreamer, and the morning, if it brought little
comfort, brought at least decision. He made up his mind while dressing
that he would sail by an early steamer for Japan. He sent a telegram to
San Francisco, as soon as he had breakfasted, to inquire about
accommodations, and busied himself during the day with arranging odds
and ends of his affairs. Coming and going was easy to him, as he rarely
speculated and never touched anything involving anxious risks. But in
the afternoon an irresistible longing impelled him to the house of his
neighbor.

"Why should I not allow myself this indulgence?" he thought. "It will
be only civil to go over there and announce my departure. As all is
over, I may at least take this last delight to my eyes and heart. And I
want to hear that song again."

All day the song had been haunting him, not on account of anything in
itself, but because it vaguely reminded him of something else--
something of infinite importance, if he could only grasp it. It hung
about him so persistently, this vague glimmer of suggestion, that he
became annoyed, and said at last to himself, "It is time for me to be
changing my climate, if a ballad can play like that on my nerves."

He seized his hat and walked rapidly across the lawn, with the zest of
air and motion natural to a strong man in convalescence. The pretty
maidservant smiled and bowed him into the cool, dim drawing-room, where
Alice was seated at the piano. She rose and said instinctively to the
servant, "Tell mamma Captain Farnham is here," and immediately repented
as she saw his brow darken a little. He sat down beside her, and said:

"I come on a twofold errand. I want to say good-by to you, and I want
you to sing 'Douglas' for me once more."

"Why, where are you going?" she said, with a look of surprise and
alarm.

"To Japan."

"But not at once, surely?"

"The first steamer I can find."

Alice tried to smile, but the attempt was a little woful.

"It will be a delightful journey, I am sure," she faltered, "but I
can't get used to the idea of it, all at once. It is the end of the
world."

"I want to get there before the end comes. At the present rate of
progress there is not more than a year's purchase of bric-a-brac left
in the empire. I must hurry over and get my share. What can I do for
you?" he continued, seeing that she sat silent, twisting h