she cried, with a sudden gush of emotion sweeping
over her features, subdued instantly, but showing what it was to
her. "You do it. Only don't let them bring him here."

And Anne flew to her fastness in Frank's attic, while Julius
repaired to Raymond's room, and found him as usual lying tranquil,
with his mother's chair so near that she could hand him the cool
fruit or drink, or ring to summon other help. Their time together
seemed to both a rest, and Julius always liked to look at their
peaceful faces, after the numerous painful scenes he had to
encounter. Raymond, too, was clinging to him, to his ministrations
and his talk, as to nothing else save his mother. Raymond had
always been upright and conscientious, but his religion had been
chiefly duty and obligation, and it was only now that comfort or
peace seemed to be growing out of it for him. As he looked up at
his brother, he too saw the involuntary brightness that the tidings
had produced, and said, "Is any one else better, Julius? I know
Terry is; I am so glad for Rose."

"I asked Anne the same question," said Julius. "Mother, you will be
more glad than tantalized. The Salamanca is come in."

Raymond made an inarticulate sound of infinite relief. His mother
exclaimed, "He must not come here! But Frankie could not spare Anne
to him. What will she do?"

"She will stay bravely by Frank," said Julius. "We must all wait
till the ship is paid off."

"Of course," said Raymond. "If she can rejoice that he is out of
danger, we will; I am content to know him near. It makes all much
easier. And, mother, he will find all ready to own what a priceless
treasure he sent before him in his wife."

There was the old note of pain in the comparison. Julius's heart
was wrung as he thought of Sirenwood, with the sense that the victim
was dying, the author of the evil recovering. He could only stifle
the thought by turning away, and going to the table in his mother's
adjacent room, where letters had accumulated unopened. 'On Her
Majesty's Service' bore the post-mark which justified him in opening
it, and enclosing the letter it contained to Miss Vivian.

He did so almost mechanically. He had gone through these weeks only
by never daring to have a self. The only man of his family who
could be effective; the only priest in the two infected parishes; he
had steadfastly braced himself for the work. He ventured only to
act and pray, never to talk, save for the