ith a last flicker in them of the
vital flame when the party of rescue found us. One of the three died on
the homeward journey. One lived to reach his native place, and to sink
to rest with his wife and children round his bed. The last man left,
out of that band of martyrs to a hopeless cause, lives to be worthier
of God's mercy--and tries to make God's creatures better and happier in
this world, and worthier of the world that is to come."

Randal's generous nature felt the appeal that had been made to it. "Will
you let me take your hand, Captain?" he said.

They clasped hands in silence.

Captain Bennydeck was the first to speak again. That modest distrust
of himself, which a man essentially noble and brave is generally the
readiest of men to feel, seemed to be troubling him once more--just as
it had troubled him when he first found himself in Randal's presence.

"I hope you won't think me vain," he resumed; "I seldom say so much
about myself as I have said to you."

"I only wish you would say more," Randal rejoined. "Can't you put off
your return to London for a day or two?"

The thing was not to be done. Duties which it was impossible to trifle
with called the Captain back. "It's quite likely," he said, alluding
pleasantly to the impression which he had produced in speaking of the
Highlanders, "that I shall find more strangers to interest me in the
great city."

"Are they always strangers?" Randal asked. "Have you never met by
accident with persons whom you may once have known?"

"Never--yet. But it may happen on my return."

"In what way?"

"In this way. I have been in search of a poor girl who has lost both her
parents: she has, I fear, been left helpless at the mercy of the world.
Her father was an old friend of mine--once an officer in the Navy like
myself. The agent whom I formerly employed (without success) to trace
her, writes me word that he has reason to believe she has obtained a
situation as pupil-teacher at a school in the suburbs of London; and
I am going back (among other things) to try if I can follow the clew
myself. Good-by, my friend. I am heartily sorry to go!"

"Life is made up of partings," Randal answered.

"And of meetings," the Captain wisely reminded him. "When you are in
London, you will always hear of me at the club."

Heartily reciprocating his good wishes, Randal attended Captain
Bennydeck to the door. On the way back to the drawing-room, he found
his mind dwelling, rather