ey Weyburn!'

'He shall have my address in Switzerland. You and I will be
corresponding.'

Now rose to view the visit to the lady who was Lady Ormont on the
tongue, Aminta at heart; never to be named Aminta even to himself. His
heart broke loose at a thought of it.

He might say Browny. For that was not serious with the intense
present signification the name Aminta had. Browny was queen of the old
school-time-enclosed it in her name; and that sphere enclosed her, not
excluding him. And the dear name of Browny played gently, humorously,
fervently, too, with life: not, pathetically, as that of Aminta did
when came a whisper of her situation, her isolation, her friendlessness;
hardly dissimilar to what could be imagined of a gazelle in the streets
of London city. The Morsfields were not all slain. The Weyburns would be
absent.

At the gate of his cottage garden Weyburn beheld a short unfamiliar
figure of a man with dimly remembered features. Little Collett he
still was in height. The schoolmates had not met since the old days of
Cuper's.

Little Collett delivered a message of invitation from Selina, begging
Mr. Weyburn to accompany her brother on the coach to Harwich next day,
and spend two or three days by the sea. But Weyburn's mind had been set
in the opposite direction--up Thames instead of down.

He was about to refuse, but he checked his voice and hummed. Words of
Selina's letter jumped in italics. He perceived Lady Ormont's hand.
For one thing, would she be at Great Marlow alone? And he knew that
hand--how deftly it moved and moved others. Selina Collett would not
have invited him with underlinings merely to see a shoreside house and
garden. Her silence regarding a particular name showed her to be under
injunction, one might guess. At worst, it would be the loss of a couple
of days; worth the venture. They agreed to journey by coach next day.

Facing eastward in the morning, on a seat behind the coachman, Weyburn
had a seafaring man beside him, bound for the good port of Harwich,
where his family lived, and thence by his own boat to Flushing. Weyburn
set him talking of himself, as the best way of making him happy; for it
is the theme which pricks to speech, and so liberates an uncomfortably
locked-up stranger; who, if sympathetic to human proximity, is thankful.
They exchanged names, delighted to find they were both Matthews;
whereupon Matthew of the sea demanded the paw of Matthew of the land,
and there wa