ou myself, through my uncle."

"You need not, Mr. Calvert I recognise you for one of the family in many
ways," said Miss Grainger; "and when your friend accompanies you, he
will be most welcome." So, truly cordially they parted.

CHAPTER V. OLD MEMORIES.

WHEN Calvert rejoined his friend, he was full of the adventure of the
morning--such a glorious discovery as he had made. What a wonderful
old woman, and what charming girls! Milly, however, he owned, rather
inclined to the contemptuous. "She was what you Cockneys call 'sarcy,'
Loyd; but the sick girl was positively enchanting; so pretty, so gentle,
and so confiding withal. By-the-way, you must make me three or four
sketches of Nile scenery--a dull flat, with a palm-tree, group of
camels in the fore, and a pyramid in the background; and I'll get up the
journal part, while you are doing the illustrations. I know nothing of
Egypt beyond the overland route, though I have persuaded them I kept a
house in Cairo, and advised them by all means to take Florence there for
the winter."

"But how could you practise such a deception in such a case, Calvert?"
said Loyd, reproachfully.

"Just as naturally as you have 'got up' that grand tone of moral
remonstrance. What an arrant humbug you are, Loyd. Why not keep all this
fine indignation for Westminster, where it will pay?"

"Quiz away, if you like; but you will not prevent me saying that the
case of a poor sick girl is not one for a foolish jest, or a--"

He stopped and grew very red, but the other continued:--

"Out with it, man. You were going to say, a falsehood. I'm not going
to be vexed with you because you happen to have a rather crape-coloured
temperament, and like turning things round till you find the dark side
of them." He paused for a few seconds and then went on: "If you had been
in my place this morning, I know well enough what you'd have done. You'd
have rung the changes over the uncertainty of life, and all its miseries
and disappointments. You'd have frightened that poor delicate creature
out of her wits, and driven her sister half distracted, to satisfy what
you imagine to be your conscience, but which, I know far better, is
nothing but a morbid love of excitement--an unhealthy passion for
witnessing pain. Now, I left her actually looking better for my
visit--she was cheered and gay, and asked when I'd come again, in a
voice that betrayed a wish for my return."

Loyd never liked being drawn into a d