know. Think of
the spirit set free to be near you--free from the world that has gone
so hard with you!'

'I can't keep that thought long; I'm not worthy of it.'

Again he was silent; but presently said, as with a sudden thought, 'You
would have told me if there were any news of Ave.'

'No, there has been no letter since her last inclosure for you,' and
then Dr. May gave the details from the papers on the doings of Henry's
division of the army.

'Will Henry let me be with them?' said Leonard, musingly.

'They will come home, depend upon it. You must wait till you hear.'

Leonard thought a little while, then said, 'Where did you say I was to
go, Dr. May?'

'Where, indeed? Home, Leonard--home. Ethel is waiting for us. To the
High Street.'

Leonard looked up again with his bewildered face, then said, 'I know
what you do with me will be right, but--'

'Had you rather not?' said the Doctor, startled.

'Rather!' and the Doctor, to his exceeding joy, saw the fingers over
his eyes moist with the tears they tried to hide; 'I only meant--' he
added, with an effort, 'you must think and judge--I can't
think--whether I ought.'

'If you ask me that,' said Dr. May, earnestly, 'all I have to say is,
that I don't know what palace is worthy of you.'

There was not much said after that; and the Doctor fell asleep, waking
only at the halts at stations to ask where he was.

At last came 'Blewer!' and as the light shone on the clock, Leonard
said, 'A quarter past twelve! It is the very train I went by! Is it a
dream?'

Ten minutes more, and 'Stoneborough' was the cry. Hastily springing
out, shuffling the tickets into the porter's hand, and grappling
Leonard's arm as if he feared an escape, Dr. May hurried him into the
empty streets, and strode on in silence.

The pull at the door-bell was answered instantly by Ethel herself. She
held out her hand, and grasped that which Leonard had almost withheld,
shrinking as from too sudden a vision; and then she ardently exchanged
kisses with her father.

'Where's Tom? Gone to bed?' said Dr. May, stepping into the bright
drawing-room.

'No,' said Ethel, demurely; 'he is gone--he is gone to America.'

The Doctor gave a prodigious start, and looked at her again.

'He went this afternoon.' she said. 'There is some matter about the
'Diseases of Climate' that he must settle before the book is published;
and he thought he could best be spared now. He has left messages that
I