will give you by and by; but you must both be famished.'

Her looks indicated that all was right, and both turned to welcome the
guest, who stood where the first impulse had left him, in the hall, not
moving forward, till he was invited in to the fire, and the meal
already spread. He then obeyed, and took the place pointed out; while
the Doctor nervously expatiated on the cold, damp, and changes of
train; and Ethel, in the active bashfulness of hidden agitation, made
tea, cut bread, carved chicken, and waited on them with double
assiduity, as Leonard, though eating as a man who had fasted since
early morning, was passive as a little child, merely accepting what was
offered to him, and not even passing his cup till she held out her hand
for it.

She did not even dare to look at him; she could not bear that he should
see her do so; it was enough to know that he was free--that he was
there--that it was over. She did not want to see how it had changed
him; and, half to set him at ease, half to work off her own excitement,
she talked to her father, and told him of the little events of his
absence till the meal was over; and, at half-past one, good nights were
exchanged with Leonard, and the Doctor saw him to his room, then
returned to his daughter on her own threshold.

'That's a thing to have lived for,' he said.

Ethel locked her hands together, and looked up.

'And now, how about this other denouement? I might have guessed that
the wind sat in that quarter.'

'But you're not to guess it, papa. It is really and truly about the
'Diseases of Climate'.'

'Swamp fevers, eh! and agues!'

The 'if you can help it,' was a great comfort now; Ethel could venture
on saying, 'Of course that has something to do with it; but he really
does make the book his object; and please--please don't give any hint
that you suspect anything else.'

'I suppose you are in his confidence; and I must ask no questions.'

'I hated not telling you, and letting you tease him; but he trusted me
just enough not to make me dare to say a word; though I never was sure
there was a word to say. Now do just once own, papa, that Tom is the
romantic one after all, to have done as he did in the height of the
trouble.'

'Well in his place so should I,' said the Doctor, with the perverseness
of not satisfying expectations of amazement.

'_You_ would,' said Ethel; 'but Tom! would you have thought it of Tom?'

'Tom has more in him than shows through