and bought five Irish manuscripts, all highly illustrative of
that history on which he and the doctor were so pleasantly engaged. It
was too late that night to go up to the Elms; but he longed to unpack
his trunkful of manuscripts, and to expound to his beloved doctor the
treasures he had amassed.

And over his solitary tea-cup and his book the sorrowful news from the
Elms reached him, and all his historical castles in the air were
shivered. In the morning, before the town was stirring, he crossed the
bridge, and knocked softly at the familiar hall-door. Honest old John
Tracy opened it, and Dan shook hands with him, and both cried for a
while quietly.

'How is the honoured master?' at last said Loftus.

'He's there in the study, Sir. Thank God, you're come, Sir. I'm sure
he'd like to see you--I'll ask him.'

Dan went into the drawing-room. He looked out at the flowers, and then
at the harpsichord, and on her little walnut table, where her
work-basket lay, and her thimble, and the little coral necklace--a
childish treasure that she used to wear when she was quite a little
thing. It was like a dream; and everything seemed to say--'Poor little
Lily!'

So old John came in, and 'Sir,' said he, 'the master will be glad to see
you.' And Dan Loftus found himself in the study; and the good doctor and
he wrung one another's hands for a long time.

'Oh, Dan--Dan--she's gone--little Lily.'

'You'll see her again, Sir--oh, you'll see her again.'

'Oh, Dan! Dan! Till the heavens be no more they shall not awake, nor be
raised out of their sleep. Oh, Dan, a day's so long--how am I to get
over the time?'

'The loving Lord, Sir, will find a way.'

'But, oh! was there no pitying angel to stay the blow--to plead for a
few years more of life? I deserved it--oh, Dan, yes!--I know it--I
deserved it. But, oh! could not the avenger have pierced me, without
smiting my innocent darling?'

'Oh! she was taken in love, not in judgment, Sir--my pastor--but in
love. It was the voice of the Redeemer that called her.'

And honest Dan repeated, through his sobs, a verse of that 'Song of
Songs,' which little Lily had loved so well--

'My well-beloved spake, and said unto me: Arise, my love, my fair one,
and come thy way.'

The old man bowed his sorrowful head listening.

'You never saw anything so beautiful,' said he after a while. 'I think,
Dan, I could look at her for ever. I don't think it was partiality, but
it seems to me there ne