te,
when the drowsiness had fallen on him; and though the sound of feet
roused him, it was to wander into the habitual defiance of
authority, merging into terror.

Herbert soothed him better than any one else could do, and he fell
asleep again; but Mr. Lipscombe declared it was of no use to remain--
nothing but madness; and they could not gainsay him. He left the
two clergymen together, feeling himself to have done a very valiant
and useless thing in the interests of justice, or at the importunity
of a foolishly zealous young curate.

"Look here," said Herbert, "Whitlock may be trusted. Leave a note
for him explaining. I'll stay here; I'm the best to do so, any way.
If he revives and is sensible, I'll send off at once for Whitlock,
or if there is no time, I'll write it down and let him see me sign
it."

"And some one else, if possible," said Julius. "The difficulty is
that I never had authority given me to use what he said to me in
private. Rather the contrary, for old instinctive habits of caution
awoke the instant I told him it was his duty to make it known, and
that Archie was alive. I don't like leaving you here, Herbert, but
Raymond was very weak this morning; besides, there's poor Joe's
funeral."

"Oh, never mind. He'll have his sleep out, and be all right when he
awakes. Think of righting Jenny's young man! How jolly!"

Julius went across to the town-hall hospital, and told the Sisters,
whose darling his curate was, of the charge he had undertaken, and
they promised to look after him. After which Julius made the best
of his way home, where Rosamond had, as usual, a bright face for
him. Her warm heart and tender tact had shown her that obtrusive
attempts to take care of him would only be harassing, so she only
took care to secure him food and rest in his own house whenever it
was possible, and that however low her own hopes might be, she would
not add to his burden; and now Terry was so much better that she
could well receive him cheerily, and talk of what Terry had that day
eaten, so joyously, as almost to conceal that no one was better at
the Hall.

"I will come with you," she said; "I might do something for poor
Fanny," as the bell began to toll for little Joshua's funeral.
Fanny Reynolds, hearing some rumour of her boy's illness, had
brought Drake to her home three days before his death. The poor
little fellow's utterances, both conscious and unconscious, had
strangely impressed the man,