d I, "good-by till to-morrow; I shall stay with the company
to-night."

He looked up. "You will see Willis?"

"Yes, sir; I suppose so."

"You might say to him, if you think well, that I thought he left us
rather abruptly to-day, and that I don't think he is very well."

"I hope to see you again to-morrow, Doctor."

"Very well, my boy; good-by till to-morrow; you will find me here by ten
o'clock."

When I reached the company I did not see Willis; he was off on duty
somewhere. On the next morning, however, he came in, and everything
passed in the friendliest way possible, at first. Evidently he was
pleased with me for absenting myself from Lydia. But he soon learned
that I was to return to the Sanitary Camp, and his countenance
changed at once.

"What am I to think of you?" he asked.

"I trust you will think well of me," I replied; "I am doing you no
wrong. You are not well. The Doctor noticed it."

"He said that I was not well?"

"Yes."

"Well, he is wrong for once; I am as well as I ever was in my life."

"He said you left very suddenly yesterday."

"I suppose I did leave suddenly; but I saw no reason to remain longer."

"Willis," said I, "let us talk seriously. Why do you not speak to Miss
Lydia and her father? Why not end this matter one way or the other?"

"I haven't seen Miss Lydia since you left us in February," said he; "how
can I speak to her?"

"But you can speak to Dr. Khayme."

"Yes, I could speak to Dr. Khayme, but I don't consider him the one to
speak to first, and to tell you the truth I'm afraid of it. It's got to
be done, but I feel that I have no chance; that's what's hurting me."

"Then I'd have it over with, as soon as possible," said I.

"That's easier said than done; but I intend to have it over; it's doing
me no good. I wish I'd never seen her."

"Why don't you write?"

"I've thought of that, but I concluded I wouldn't. It looked cowardly
not to face the music."

"My dear fellow," said I, "there is no cowardice in it at all. You ought
to do it, or else bury the whole thing, and I don't suppose you can
do that."

"No, I can't do that; if I don't see her shortly, I shall write."

I was very glad to hear this. From what he had just said, coupled with
my knowledge of the Doctor and of Lydia, I did not think his chance
worth a penny, and I felt certain that the best thing for him to do was
to bring matters to a conclusion. He would recover sooner.

At ten o'clock I was wi