t they were folk to whom sleep
was precious. . . .

And now it was all snatched away from him, relegated to some immensely
far-off future. Would it indeed be possible to get his guardian to ask
them down to Hayle? And would they really come? His tutor would surely
never care to visit a place right away in the country--far from books and
everything! He frowned, thinking of his tutor, but it was with
perplexity--no other feeling. And yet, if he could not have them down
there, how could he wait the two whole months till next term began! So
went his thoughts, round and round, while the horses jogged, dragging him
further and further from her.

It was better in the train; the distraction of all the strange crowd of
foreigners, the interest of new faces and new country; and then sleep--a
long night of it, snoozed up in his corner, thoroughly fagged out. And
next day more new country, more new faces; and slowly, his mood changing
from ache and bewilderment to a sense of something promised, delightful
to look forward to. Then Calais at last, and a night-crossing in a wet
little steamer, a summer gale blowing spray in his face, waves leaping
white in a black sea, and the wild sound of the wind. On again to
London, the early drive across the town, still sleepy in August haze; an
English breakfast--porridge, chops, marmalade. And, at last, the train
for home. At all events he could write to her, and tearing a page out of
his little sketch-book, he began:

"I am writing in the train, so please forgive this joggly writing--"

Then he did not know how to go on, for all that he wanted to say was such
as he had never even dreamed of writing--things about his feelings which
would look horrible in words; besides, he must not put anything that
might not be read, by anyone, so what was there to say?

"It has been such a long journey," he wrote at last, "away from the
Tyrol;" (he did not dare even to put "from you,") "I thought it would
never end. But at last it has--very nearly. I have thought a great deal
about the Tyrol. It was a lovely time--the loveliest time I have ever
had. And now it's over, I try to console myself by thinking of the
future, but not the immediate future--THAT is not very enjoyable. I
wonder how the mountains are looking to-day. Please give my love to them,
especially the lion ones that come and lie out in the moonlight--you will
not recognize them from this"--then followed a sketch. "And this is