s well as a relaxation
from his incessant employments in Rome. On the occasion of his departure
we met again. He looked like a worn-out old man. We could now only
remember his double claim on us--as a priest of our religion, and as a
once dear friend--and we arranged to travel with him. The weather at
the time was mild; our progress was made by easy stages. We left him at
Paris, apparently the better for his journey."

I asked if they had seen Stella on that occasion.

"No," said Lord Loring. "We had reason to doubt whether Stella would
be pleased to see us, and we felt reluctant to meddle, unasked, with a
matter of extreme delicacy. I arranged with the Nuncio (whom I have the
honor to know) that we should receive written information of Romayne's
state of health, and on that understanding we returned to England. A
week since, our news from the Embassy was so alarming that Lady Loring
at once returned to Paris. Her first letter informed me that she had
felt it her duty to tell Stella of the critical condition of Romayne's
health. She expressed her sense of my wife's kindness most gratefully
and feelingly and at once removed to Paris, to be on the spot if her
husband expressed a wish to see her. The two ladies are now staying
at the same hotel. I have thus far been detained in London by family
affairs. But, unless I hear of a change for the better before evening, I
follow Lady Loring to Paris by the mail train."

It was needless to trespass further on Lord Loring's time. I thanked
him, and returned to Penrose. He was sleeping when I got to the hotel.

On the table in the sitting-room I found a telegram waiting for me. It
had been sent by Stella, and it contained these lines:

"I have just returned from his bedside, after telling him of the rescue
of Penrose. He desires to see you. There is no positive suffering--he is
sinking under a complete prostration of the forces of life. That is what
the doctors tell me. They said, when I spoke of writing to you, 'Send a
telegram; there is no time to lose.'"

Toward evening Penrose awoke. I showed him the telegram. Throughout
our voyage, the prospect of seeing Romayne again had been the uppermost
subject in his thoughts. In the extremity of his distress, he declared
that he would accompany me to Paris by the night train. Remembering
how severely he had felt the fatigue of the short railway journey from
Portsmouth, I entreated him to let me go alone. His devotion to Romayne
was