me up to
her.

'You are going, Michael; but we shall see you again before you really
start?' she said, with an attempt at cheerfulness. But he shook his
head.

'I think not. Abercrombie has just written to say that Dick wants to get
away a week earlier. I shall not be down here again.'

Something choking seemed to rise in Audrey's throat, and if her life had
depended on it she could not have got out another word. But Michael saw
the troubled look in her eyes; they seemed to ask him again that
question, 'Must you go?'

'Yes, dear; I must go,' he replied gently. 'It is better for us
both--better for you, and far, far better for me.' And as she still
looked at him without speaking, he drew her towards him and kissed her
cheek. 'God be with you, my dearest!' he said very tenderly. 'Think of
me as kindly as you can, and let your heart plead for me.'

And the next moment he was gone.

Audrey stood rooted to the spot; she felt as though some nightmare
oppression were on her. She heard her father's voice calling to her.
'Where is Audrey?' he said. 'She must bid Michael good-bye.' And then
someone--Michael, perhaps--answered him.

A great longing was on her to see him again; but as she hesitated the
wheels of the dog-cart sounded on the gravel, and she knew that she was
too late. With a sudden impulse she leant out of the window. Michael was
looking back at the house; he saw her, and raised his hat. She had just
time to wave her hand as Dr. Ross drove rapidly through the gate.

When her mother came to find her she was still standing there; she
looked very pale, and the pained, wistful look was still in her eyes.

'Mother,' she said, 'Cyril has left me, and now Michael has gone, too;
and the world seems a different place to me.'

'Michael will come back, my darling,' replied Mrs. Ross, vaguely
troubled by the look on the girl's face. 'Your father says he has long
wanted a thorough change, and this trip will do him so much good.'

'Yes, he will come back; but when and how? And he will not come back for
a long time;' and then she broke down, and hid her face in her mother's
shoulder. 'If I were only like you, mother! if my life lay behind me,
and had not to be lived out day by day and year by year! for I seem so
tired of everything.'

Mrs. Ross could make nothing of her girl; but she gave her just what she
required that moment, a little soothing and extra petting.

'You have gone through so much, and you have borne