me at the old address."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

ORDERS OF RELEASE

Waymark and Casti spent their Christmas Eve together. They spoke freely
of each other's affairs, saving that there was no mention of Ida.
Waymark had of course said nothing of that parting between Ida and
himself. Of the hope which supported him he could not speak to his
friend.

A month had told upon Julian as months do when the end draws so near.
In spite of his suffering he still discharged his duties at the
hospital, but it was plain that he would not be able to do so much
longer. And what would happen then?

"Casti," Waymark exclaimed suddenly, when a hint of this thought had
brought both of them to a pause, "come away with me."

Julian looked up in bewilderment.

"Where to?"

"Anywhere. To some place where the sun shines."

"What an impossible idea! How am I to get my living? And how is she to
live?"

"Look here," Waymark said, smiling, "my will is a little stronger than
yours, and in the present case I mean to exercise it. I have said, and
there's an end of it. You say she'll be away from home to-morrow. Good.
We go together, pack up your books and things in half an hour or so,
bring them here,--and then off! _Sic volo, sic jubeo, sit pro ratione
voluntas!_"

And it was done, though not till Waymark had overcome the other's
opposition by the most determined effort. Julian understood perfectly
well the full significance of the scheme, for all Waymark's kind
endeavour to put a hopeful and commonplace aspect on his proposal. He
resisted as long as his strength would allow, then put himself in his
friend's hands.

It was some time before Julian could set his mind at rest with regard
to the desertion of his wife. Though no one capable of judging the
situation could have cast upon him a shadow of blame, the first
experience of peace mingled itself in his mind with self-reproach.
Waymark showed him how utterly baseless any such feeling was. Harriet
had proved herself unworthy of a moment's consideration, and it was
certain that, as long as she received her weekly remittance--paid
through an agent in London,--she would trouble herself very little
about the rest; or, at all events, any feeling that might possess her
would be wholly undeserving of respect. Gradually Julian accustomed
himself to this thought.

They were in the Isle of Wight; comfortably housed, with the sea before
their eyes, and the boon of sunshine which Casti had so l