y, neither one nor the other of us; we shall go
on apart and alone till the next world. Perhaps she will come to me
then: I may have her in my heart there."

John looked upward: there was in the west a broad, red frosty cloud,
and just beyond it, nay, all but resting on it, the new moon--a little,
wintry, soft new moon. A sight that might well have hushed the maddest
storm of passion: it hushed his. He stood, still looking up, for many
minutes, then his eyes closed, the lashes all wet.

"We'll never speak of this again, Phineas; I'll not grieve thee any
more; I'll try and be a better brother to thee for the future. Come
along!"

He drew my arm in his, and we went home.

Passing the tan-yard John proposed that we should call for my father.
My poor father; now daily growing more sour and old, and daily leaning
more and more upon John, who never ceased to respect, and make every
one else respect, his master. Though still ostensibly a 'prentice, he
had now the business almost entirely in his hands. It was pleasant to
see how my father brightened up at his coming--how readily, when he
turned homeward, he leaned upon John's strong arm, now the support of
both him and me. Thus we walked through Norton Bury streets, where
everybody knew us, and indeed, as it seemed to me this morning, nearly
everybody greeted us--at least, one of us; but my father walked along
soberly and sternly, frowning at almost every salutation John Halifax
received.

"Thee art making far too many friends, John. I warn thee!"

"Not FRIENDS--only friendly acquaintance," was the gentle answer: he
was well used to turn away, daily and hourly, Abel Fletcher's wrath.
But it was roused beyond control when Dr. Jessop's neat little
carriage, and neatest of little wives, stopped at the curb-stone and
summoned John.

"I want you and Mr. Fletcher to come to us to-morrow instead of this
evening. Lady Caroline Brithwood wishes to see you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," smiled the old lady; "you, John Halifax, the hero of the
people, who quelled the bread riots, and gave evidence thereupon to Mr.
Pitt, in London. Nay! why didn't you tell me the wonderful story? Her
Ladyship is full of it. She will torment me till she sees you--I know
her ways. For my sake, you MUST come."

Waiting no refusal, Mrs. Jessop drove on.

"What's that?" said my father, sharply. "John, where art thee going?"

I knew this was the first warning-gun of a battle which broke o