ntold happiness.

"When I think of seeing Frances and you together," he said, "I feel like
a school-boy out for a holiday. I will count the hours, John, until you
come."

I had to go to London on business, and while there it was impossible to
resist the temptation of running on to Brighton. I loved the place so
well, and I had not seen it for so long. I wanted to stand once more on
the Chain Pier, and think of my lost heaven. How vividly it all came
back to me--that terrible tragedy, although more than three years had
passed since it happened. There was the corner where I had sat in the
thick, soft shadows; there was the railing against which she leaned when
she threw the little bundle in the water.

I remembered the fitful light, the wash of the waves round the pier, the
beautiful, desperate face, and the voice that had wailed: "If I dare!
oh, my God, if I dare!"

I went to see the little grave. The thick green grass which covered is
was studded with white daisies, the golden letters on the white cross
seemed to burn in the sunlight; "Marah. Found drowned." I had been to
the other end of the world, but no one had been to shed a tear over the
little grave.

CHAPTER V.

The face of an old friend is good to see after a long absence. Tears
filled my eyes when the sunny blue ones looked into them, and the
handsome face, quivering with emotion, smiled into mine. I was glad to
feel once more the clasp of that honest hand.

"Ah, Lance," I cried, "I would travel twice as far for one hour with
you!"

I shall never forget that pretty station at Vale Royal. A beautiful
brawling river ran close by, spanned by an old-fashioned rustic bridge;
three huge chestnut trees, now in full flower, seemed to shade the whole
place.

"A pretty spot," said proud, happy Lance; "but wait till you see Dutton!
I tell Frances that I am quite sure it is the original garden of
Paradise!"

"Let us pray that no serpent may enter therein," I said.

"There is no fear, John," he replied; "my Frances would be an antidote
against all the serpents in the world. We shall have a glorious drive
home! How do you like my carriage?"

It was perfect, so were the horses, so was the groom in his neat livery,
so was the dogcart waiting for the luggage, so was the magnificent
retriever that ran with the carriage. What a drive it was! Of all
seasons, in all climes, give me an English spring. The hedges were
covered with white and pink hawthorn; the