aid below his breath, and tiptoeing across the room,
he paused by the arm-chair, in the depths of which Max's slight figure
was curled up in the pleasant embrace of sleep.

The fire had died down, the pool of candle-light was not brilliant,
and in the soft, shadowed glow the boy made an attractive picture.

[Illustration: THE IMPRESSION OF A MYSTERY FLOWED BACK UPON HIM]

One hand lay carelessly on either arm of the chair; the head was thrown
back, the black lashes of the closed eyes cast shadows on the smooth
cheeks.

Blake looked long and interestedly, and his earliest impression--the
impression of a mystery--flowed back upon him strong as on the night of
the long journey.

The beauty and strength of the face called forth thought; and Max's own
declaration, so often repeated, came back upon him with new meaning, 'I
am older than you think!'

For almost the first time the words carried weight. It was not that the
features looked older; if anything they appeared younger in their deep
repose. But the expression--the slight knitting of the dark brows, the
set of the chin, the modelling of the full lips, usually so mobile and
prone to laughter--suggested a hidden force, gave warranty of a depth, a
strength irreconcilable with a boy's capacities.

He looked--puzzled, attracted; then his glance dropped from the face to
the pathetically tired limbs, and the sense of pity stirred anew,
banishing question, causing the light of a pleasant inspiration to
awaken in his eyes.

Smiling to himself, he replenished the fire with exaggerated stealth;
and, creeping out of the room, closed the door behind him.

He was gone for over half an hour, and when he again entered, the fire
had sprung into new life, and fresh flames--blue and sulphur and
copper-colored--were dancing up the chimney, while the candles in their
strange abiding-places had burned an inch or two lower. But his eyes
were for Max, and for Max alone, and with the same intense stealth he
crept across the room to the bare table and solemnly unburdened himself
of a variety of parcels and a cheery-looking bottle done up in red
tissue-paper.

Max still slept, and, drawing a sigh of satisfaction, he proceeded with
the task he had set himself--the task of providing supper after the
manner of the genius in the fairy-tale.

First plates were brought from the new-filled kitchen shelves; then
knives were found, and forks; then the mysterious-looking parcels
delivered up