horrible! Poor Derrick, how sorry
I am for him. I hope we shall see something of them at Bath. Do you know
how the Major is?"

"I had a letter about him from Derrick only this evening," I replied;
"if you care to see it, I will show it you later on."

And by-and-by, in the drawing-room, I put Derrick's letter into her
hands, and explained to her how for a few months he had given up his
life at Bath, in despair, but now had returned.

"I don't think Lawrence can understand the state of things," she said
wistfully. "And yet he has been down there."

I made no reply, and Freda, with a sigh, turned away.

A month later I went down to Bath and found, as my friend foretold,
everything going on in the old groove, except that Derrick himself had
an odd, strained look about him, as if he were fighting a foe beyond
his strength. Freda's arrival at Bath had been very hard on him, it
was almost more than he could endure. Sir Richard, blind as a bat, of
course, to anything below the surface, made a point of seeing something
of Lawrence's brother. And on the day of my arrival Derrick and I had
hardly set out for a walk, when we ran across the old man.

Sir Richard, though rheumatic in the wrists, was nimble of foot and an
inveterate walker. He was going with his daughter to see over Beckford's
Tower, and invited us to accompany him. Derrick, much against the grain,
I fancy, had to talk to Freda, who, in her winter furs and close-fitting
velvet hat, looked more fascinating than ever, while the old man
descanted to me on Bath waters, antiquities, etc., in a long-winded
way that lasted all up the hill. We made our way into the cemetery and
mounted the tower stairs, thinking of the past when this dreary place
had been so gorgeously furnished. Here Derrick contrived to get ahead
with Sir Richard, and Freda lingered in a sort of alcove with me.

"I have been so wanting to see you," she said, in an agitated voice.
"Oh, Mr. Wharncliffe, is it true what I have heard about the Major? Does
he drink?"

"Who told you?" I said, a little embarrassed.

"It was our landlady," said Freda; "she is the daughter of the Major's
landlady. And you should hear what she says of Derrick! Why, he must
be a downright hero! All the time I have been half despising him"--she
choked back a sob--"he has been trying to save his father from what was
certain death to him--so they told me. Do you think it is true?"

"I know it is," I replied gravely.

"And a