EE.

GOING FORTH.

"O Day of endless brightness, dawn o'er these darkened skies!
O Land of changeless beauty, break on these weary eyes!
O Home whence no outgoing shall blind us with our tears--
O rest and peace! O life and love! O summer of all years!"

The night of the fourth of July came hot and sultry, without a breath of
wind. Isoult Avery had sunk to sleep after a weary day. The very
warmth brought languor, and Walter had been naughty and peevish, needing
all her patience; and Mr Tremayne had had a large party to supper, of
which she had been one; and a multitude of little worries had pressed
upon her--those worries which seem too insignificant to repeat or care
about, yet form in the mass a large portion of our troubles. Hardly
knowing it herself, her last thought before she slept had been a prayer
for rest. But it was not rest that she really needed, and therefore it
was not rest she was to have. Our Father giveth us often what we ask,
but always what we need.

From a troubled dream Isoult was now aroused, by a sound which at first
wove itself into her dream, and made her imagine herself in the great
hall of the Palace of Westminster, where carpenters were busy pulling
down the throne.

Knock, knock, knock!

Isoult hardly roused herself enough to recognise what the reality was
which answered to her imaginary carpenters, and John Avery slept calmly.

The knocking was repeated more loudly.

"Jack!" said Isoult at last--much too faintly to arouse any but a very
light sleeper.

Again came the knocking, and this time a voice with it. "Mr Avery!"

Isoult, thoroughly awake at last, sat up, and succeeded after a minute
in bringing John to consciousness. The knocking went on. John sprang
up, and threw open the window.

"Who are you, and what do you lack?" he called to the unseen visitant
below.

"Let me in, and in haste, for God's sake!" cried a voice in answer,
which both the listeners immediately recognised as Robin Tremayne's.

"There is somewhat gone wrong," said John, and hurrying down, he
unbarred the door, and let in Robin. Isoult followed as quickly as she
could.

"Why, Robin, lad, what is the matter?" she cried in dismay. "What can
ail thee? Is somewhat amiss at Tremayne?"

For Robin's face was white with terror, and he trembled from head to
foot, and his clothes were soiled and torn.

"All that can ail me in this world," murmured the poor lad, dropping
upon the settle.