directions
with a trustworthy servant in case any letters should come for Mr.
Thorne, and the man sent the message on to Brenthill at once. But it
made a difference to Hammond himself. When Hardwicke despatched the
telegram to his address in town Godfrey lay on the turf at the Lizard
Head, gazing southward across the sunlit sea, while the seabirds
screamed and the white waves broke on the jagged rocks far below.

But with Percival there was no delay. The message found him in Bellevue
street, though he did not return there immediately after his parting
with Judith. He wanted the open air, the sky overhead, movement and
liberty to calm the joyful tumult in heart and brain. He hastened to the
nearest point whence he could look over trees and fields. The prospect
was not very beautiful. The trees were few--some cropped willows by a
mud-banked rivulet and a group or two of gaunt and melancholy elms. And
the fields had a trodden, suburban aspect, which made it hardly needful
to stick up boards describing them as eligible building-ground. Yet
there was grass, such as it was, and daisies sprinkled here and there,
and soft cloud-shadows gliding over it. Percival's unreal and fantastic
dream had perished suddenly when Judith put her hand in his. Now, as he
walked across these meadows, he saw a new vision, that dream of noble,
simple poverty, which, if it could but be realized, would be the fairest
of all.

When he returned from his walk, and came once more to the well-known
street which he was learning to call "home," he was so much calmer that
he thought he was quite himself again. Not the languid, hopeless self
who had lived there once, but a self young, vigorous, elate, rejoicing
in the present and looking confidently toward the future.

This I can tell,
That all will go well,

was the keynote of his mood. He felt as if he trod on air--as if he had
but to walk boldly forward and every obstacle must give way. The door of
No. 13 was open, and a boy who had brought a telegram was turning away
from it. Hurrying in with eager eyes and his face bright with unspoken
joy, Percival nearly ran up against Mrs. Bryant and Emma, whose heads
were close together over the address on the envelope.

"Lor! Mr. Thorne, how you startled me! It's for you," said his landlady.

He went up the stairs two at a time, with his message in his hand. Here
was some good news--not for one moment did he dream it could be other
than good news--come t