darkness. 'You have behaved so beautifully to-night, and I
felt, oh! so proud of my sweetheart. And if I am content, what does it
matter what other people think?'

'Forgive me, darling,' he returned remorsefully; 'I am only sometimes a
little sore because I can give you so little.'

And then his mood changed, for the subtle comfort of her sweet words
was thrilling through him; for he was young, and the girl he worshipped
from the depths of his honest heart was alone with him under the dim,
cloudy skies. Was it any wonder that the world was forgotten, and only
the golden haze of the future seemed before them, as they walked
together through the quiet streets to Woodcote?

CHAPTER XXVII

WHAT MICHAEL THOUGHT OF IT

'Not to be solitary one must possess, entirely to one's self, a
human creature, and belong exclusively to her (or him).'--GUIZOT.

'How, then, is one to recover courage enough for action?

* * * * *

By extracting a richer experience out of our losses and
lessons.'--AMIEL.

Captain Burnett had finished his troublesome piece of business, and was
thinking of his return home. His friend was, metaphorically speaking, on
his feet again, and Michael was now free to leave London. He had waited,
however, for another day or two on Kester's account; the friendly doctor
who had undertaken to look into his case had already done wonders.
Kester was making rapid progress under his care, and his bright looks
and evident enjoyment of his town life reconciled Michael to their long,
protracted stay.

'We must certainly go back to Rutherford next week,' he observed one
morning, as they sat at breakfast together.

Kester had some appointment with Fred Somers that called him out early,
and Captain Burnett good-naturedly left his letters unread, that he
might pour out the coffee and attend to his wants.

'They will keep, and I have nothing to do this morning,' he remarked
carelessly, as he took them up and laid them down again.

After all, he would not be sorry to read them alone. There was an Indian
letter, and one from Audrey, and several notes that were evidently
invitations.

When Kester had left him, he sat down in an easy-chair by the window.
There was a little table beside him, with a red jar full of brown leaves
and chrysanthemums. He picked out one and played with it for a moment,
and then Booty jumped up uninvited and curled himself up on