well enough he had better go there to-morrow.
He mentioned your mother this morning; no doubt she will know how to
manage him."

"My mother died six months ago," said Derrick, pushing back his chair
and beginning to pace the room. The doctor made kindly apologies.

"Perhaps you have a sister, who could go to him?"

"No," replied Derrick. "My only sister is married, and her husband would
never allow it."

"Or a cousin or an aunt?" suggested the old man, naively unconscious
that the words sounded like a quotation.

I saw the ghost of a smile flit over Derrick's harassed face as he shook
his head.

"I suggested that he should go into some Home for--cases of the kind,"
resumed the doctor, "or place himself under the charge of some medical
man; however, he won't hear of such a thing. But if he is left to
himself--well, it is all up with him. He will drink himself to death in
a few months."

"He shall not be left alone," said Derrick; "I will live with him. Do
you think I should do? It seems to be Hobson's choice."

I looked up in amazement--for here was Derrick calmly giving himself up
to a life that must crush every plan for the future he had made. Did men
make such a choice as that while they took two or three turns in a room?
Did they speak so composedly after a struggle that must have been so
bitter? Thinking it over now, I feel sure it was his extraordinary gift
of insight and his clear judgment which made him behave in this way. He
instantly perceived and promptly acted; the worst of the suffering came
long after.

"Why, of course you are the very best person in the world for him,"
said the doctor. "He has taken a fancy to you, and evidently you have a
certain influence with him. If any one can save him it will be you."

But the thought of allowing Derrick to be sacrificed to that old brute
of a Major was more than I could bear calmly.

"A more mad scheme was never proposed," I cried. "Why, doctor, it will
be utter ruin to my friend's career; he will lose years that no one can
ever make up. And besides, he is unfit for such a strain, he will never
stand it."

My heart felt hot as I thought of Derrick, with his highly-strung,
sensitive nature, his refinement, his gentleness, in constant
companionship with such a man as Major Vaughan.

"My dear sir," said the old doctor, with a gleam in his eye, "I
understand your feeling well enough. But depend upon it, your friend has
made the right choice, and there i