to think of relinquishing one who--all unknown to himself--did
more to guide and win the hearts of those Hydriots than teaching or
sermons could ever do, and yet no one could advise Harold to remain
after this winter. In the reprieve, however, we both rejoiced, and Ben
then added, "For my brother's sake, especially."

"Do you think the example tells on him?" I ventured on asking.

"I can hardly say it does," was the answer. "George used to point to
Harold Alison as a specimen of a vigorous physical development so
perfectly balanced as to be in a manner self-adjusting, without need of
what he called imaginative influences. I always thought he was a
little staggered that evening that he had to summon you, Miss Alison,
to his help; but he had some theory of sentiment to account for it, and
managed, as people do, to put it aside. Lately, however, he has been
looking on, he says, with curiosity--I believe with something more.
You see he reveres Alison for what he is, not for what he knows."

"Of course not; your brother must know far more than Harold."

"But the strength of character and will impresses him. The bending of
such a nature to faith, the acceptance of things spiritual, by one
_real_, unimaginative and unsophisticated, and, above all, the _self_
conquest, just where a great Greek hero would have failed, have
certainly told on George, so that I see more hope than I have ever done
before."

So careful of me was Mr. Yolland, that he only parted with me at
Randall Horsman's door, where I was gladly welcomed by the master of
the house, and found my poor little niece a grievous spectacle, and so
miserable with the horrible illness, that she only showed her pleasure
in my coming by fretting whenever anyone else touched her.

She had it badly in the natural form, but never was in immediate
danger, and began in due time to recover. I had ceased my daily
telegrams, and had not been alarmed by some days' intermission of
Harold's letters, for I knew that Dermot was at Arked alone, and that
by this time the Yollands would be returned and my nephew would have
less time to spend on me.

One dismal wintry afternoon, however, when I was sitting in the dark,
telling Dora stories, a card was brought up to me by the little
housemaid. The gentleman begged to see me. "Mr. Tracy" was on the
card, and the very sight startled me with the certainty that something
was amiss.

I left the girl in charge and hurried down to th