en small packets. Here also was a sheet of
paper. He opened and read it quickly. It said:

Monsieur, I am not sure that you have recovered your memory and your
health, and I am also not sure that in such case you will thank me
for my work. If you think I have done you an injury, pray accept my
profound apologies. Monsieur, you have been a drunkard. If you
would reverse the record now, these powders, taken at opportune
moments, will aid you. Monsieur, with every expression of my good-
will, and the hope that you will convey to me without reserve your
feelings on this delicate matter, I append my address in Paris, and
I have the honour to subscribe myself, with high consideration,
Monsieur, yours faithfully,
MARCEL LOISEL.

The others looked at him with varied feelings as he read. Curiosity,
inquiry, expectation, were common to them all, but with each was a
different personal feeling. The Cure's has been described. Jo Portugais'
mind was asking if this meant that the man who had come into his life
must now go out of it; and the girl was asking who was this mysterious
man, like none she had ever seen or known.

Without hesitation Charley handed over the letter to the Cure, who took
it with surprise, read it with amazement, and handed it back with a
flush on his face.

"Thank you," said Charley to the girl. "It is good of you to bring it
all this way. May I ask--"

"She is Mademoiselle Rosalie Evanturel," said the Cure smiling.

"I am Charles Mallard," said Charley slowly. "Thank you. I will go
now, Monsieur Mallard," the girl said, lifting her eyes to his face.
He bowed. As she turned and went towards the door her eyes met his. She
blushed.

"Wait, Mademoiselle; I will go back with you," said the Cure kindly.
He turned to Charley and held out his hand. "God be with you,
Monsieur--Charles," he said. "Come and see me soon." Remembering that
his brother had written that the man was a drunkard, his eyes had a
look of pity. This was the man's own secret and his. It was a way to the
man's heart; he would use it.

As the two went out of the door, the girl looked back. Charley was
putting the surgeon's letter into the fire, and did not see her; yet she
blushed again.

CHAPTER XIII. HOW CHARLEY WENT ADVENTURING AND WHAT HE FOUND

A week passed. Charley's life was running in a tiny circle, but his mind
was compassing large revolutions. The events of the last few da