will find Mr. Fairlegh in the study, sir," was Harry able to
perceive that, excepting himself, Fanny was the sole occupant of the
apartment.

"I hope I am not disturbing you," he began, after an awkward pause,
during which his cheek had flushed, and then again grown pale as marble.
"The servant told me I should find Frank here alone, and that you and
Mrs. Fairlegh were out walking."

"Mamma is gone to see the poor boy who broke his leg the other day; but
I had a little headache, and she would not let me go with her." "And
Frank?"

"Frank went out soon after breakfast, and has not yet returned; I think
he said he was going to the Hall--he wanted to find some book in the
library, I fancy--I wonder you did not meet him."

"I have not been at home since the morning; my father carried me off to
look at a farm he thinks of purchasing; but, as Frank is out, I will
not interrupt you longer; I dare say I shall meet him in my way back.
Good--good-morning!"

So saying, he took up his hat, and turned abruptly to leave the room.
Apparently, however, ere he reached the door, some thought came
across him which induced him to relinquish this design, for he stood
irresolutely for a ~372~~ moment, with the handle in his hand, and
then returned, saying in a low voice, "No, I cannot do it!--Fanny," he
continued, speaking rapidly, as if mistrusting his self-control, "I am
going abroad to-morrow; we may not meet again for years, perhaps (for
life and death are strangely intermingled) we may meet in this world
no more. Since you were a child we have lived together like brother
and sister and I cannot leave you without saying good-bye--without
expressing a fervent wish that in the lot you have chosen for yourself
you may meet with all the happiness you anticipate, and which you so
well deserve."

"Going abroad?" repeated Fanny mechanically, as if stunned by this
unexpected intelligence.

"Yes; I start for the Continent early to-morrow morning: you know I am
always alarmingly hasty in my movements," he added, with a faint attempt
at a smile.

"It must be on account of your health," exclaimed Fanny quickly. "Ah!"
she continued, with a start, as a new and painful idea occurred to her,
"the fearful leap you took to save me--the exertion was too much for
you; I knew--I felt at the time it would be so; better, far better, had
I perished in that dark river, than that you should have endangered your
valuable life."

"Indeed, it is not so