ft and smooth for very fulness.

Presently, a second nightingale began to answer from a distant tree, and
the garden was filled with the wild music. One or two stars had already
twinkled out.

"I ought really to be going," said the Professor.

But he lingered still. His eyes wandered anxiously to Hadria's white
face. He said good-night to Valeria, and then he and Hadria walked to
the gate together.

"You will come back and see us at Craddock Dene soon after you return,
won't you?" she said wistfully.

"Of course I will. And I hope that meanwhile, you will set to work to
get strong and well. All your leisure ought to be devoted to that
object, for the present. I should be so delighted to hear from you now
and again, when you have a spare moment and the spirit moves you. I will
write and tell you how I fare, if I may. If, at any time, I can be of
service to you, don't forget how great a pleasure it would be to me to
render it. I hope if ever I come back to England----"

"When you come back," Hadria corrected, hastily.

----"that we may meet oftener."

"Indeed, that will be something to look forward to!"

They exchanged the hearty, lingering handshake of trusty friendship and
deep affection. The last words, the last good wishes, were spoken, the
last wistful effort was made of two human souls to bid each other be of
good cheer, and to bring to one another comfort and hope. Hadria leant
on the gate, a lonely figure in the dim star-light, watching the form
that had already become shadowy, retreating along the road and gradually
losing itself in the darkness.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Autumn had come round again. Craddock Dene had calmed down after the
exciting event of the summer. Martha's little cottage was now standing
empty, the virginia creeper trailing wildly, in thick festoons and
dangling sprays over the porch and creeping up round the windows, even
threatening to cover them with a ruddy screen, since now the bright
little face no longer looked out of the latticed panes, and the cottage
was given over to dust and spiders.

Mrs. Temperley was often seen by the villagers passing along the road
towards Craddock. She would sometimes pause at the cottage, to gather a
few of the flowers that still came up in the tiny garden. It was said
that she gathered them to lay on Ellen Jervis's grave.

"Dear, dear, she do take on about that child!" Dodge used to say, as she
passed up the street of Craddock. And Mrs. Gu