ckie?'

'Yes,' said Leonard, smiling too; 'the dear little fellow is so fresh
and loving, as well as so wise and discreet, that he draws out all that
is in one's heart. It has been a new life to me ever since he took to
me! Do you know, I believe he has been writing a letter of
recommendation of me on his own account to the Bishop; I told him he
must enclose it to his father if he presumed to send it, though he
claims the Bishop as his intimate friend.'

'Ah,' said Ethel, 'papa is always telling him that they can't get on in
New Zealand for want of the small archdeacon, and that, I really think,
abashes him more than anything else.'

'He is not forward, he is only sensible,' said Leonard, on whose heart
Dickie had far too fast a hold for even this slight disparagement not
to be rebutted. 'I had forgotten what a child could be till I was with
him; I felt like a stock or a stone among you all.'

Ethel smiled. 'I was nearly giving you "Marmion", in remembrance of
old times, on the night of the Christmas-tree,' she said; 'but I did
not then feel as if the "giving double" for all your care and trouble
had begun.'

'The heart to feel it so was not come,' said Leonard; 'now since I have
grasped this hope of making known to others the way to that Grace that
held me up,'--he paused with excess of feeling--'all has been joy, even
in the recollection of the darkest days. Mr. Wilmot's words come back
now, that it may all have been training for my Master's work. Even the
manual labour may have been my preparation!' His eyes brightened, and
he was indeed more like the eager, hopeful youth she remembered than
she had ever hoped to see him; but this brightness was the flash of
steel, tried, strengthened, and refined in the fire--a brightness that
might well be trusted.

'One knew it must be so,' was all she could say.

'Yes, yes,' he said, eagerly. 'You sent me words of greeting that held
up my faith; and, above all, when we read those books at Coombe, you
put the key of comfort in my hand, and I never quite lost it. Miss
May,' he added, as Dr. May's latch-key was heard in the front door, 'if
ever I come to any good, I owe it to you!'

And that was the result of the boy's romance. The first tidings of the
travellers next morning were brought near the end of breakfast by Tom,
who came in looking thin, worn, and anxious, saying that Averil had
called herself too happy to sleep till morning, when a short doze had
only re