e the City, and
yet he felt more than ever the force of his dying father's commission
to carry out his longings for the true good of the people.

I said we could make a London home and see Dora sometimes, trying to
make him understand that he might reckon on me as his sister friend,
but the answer was, "I don't count on that."

"You don't want to cast me off?"

"No, indeed, but there is another to be thought of."

Then he told me how, over my letters to him in New South Wales, there
had come out Dermot's account of the early liking that everyone nipped,
till my good-girlish submission wounded and affronted him, and he
forgot or disliked me for years; how old feelings had revived, when we
came in contact once more; but how he was withheld from their
manifestation, by the miserable state of his affairs, as well as by my
own coldness and indifference.

I made some sound which made Harold say, "You told me to keep him away."

"I knew I ought," I remember saying faintly.

"Oh--h--!" a prolonged sound, that began a little triumphantly, but
ended in a sigh, and then he earnestly said, "You do not think you
ought to discourage him now? Your mother did not forbid it for ever."

"Oh no, no; it never came to that."

"And you know what he is now?"

"I know he is changed," was all I could say.

"And you will help him forward a little when he comes back. You and he
will be happy."

There might be a great surging wave of joy in my heart, but it would
not let me say anything but, "And leave you alone, Harold?"

"I must learn to be alone," he said. "I can stay here this winter, and
see to the things in hand, and then I suppose something will turn up."

"As a call?" I said.

"Yes," he answered. "I told God to-day that I had nothing to do but
His service, and I suppose He will find it for me."

There was something in the steadfast, yet wistful look of his eyes,
that made me take down the legend of St. Christopher and read it aloud.
Reading generally sent him into a doze, but even that would be a
respite to the heartache he so patiently bore, and I took the chance,
but he sat with his chin on his hand and his eyes fixed attentively on
mine all the time, then held out his hand for the book, and pondered,
as was his thorough way in such matters. At last he said, "Well, I'll
wait by the stream. Some day He will send me some one to carry over."

We little thought what stream was very near!

CHAPTER XV.

THE