the details of
an hospitality which has been forced upon you by circumstances. For the
present I fear this cannot be altered----"

"I do not wish it altered," interrupted Morris.

"It is indeed kind of you to say so, but I am happy to state the doctor
tells me if I continue to progress as well as at present, I shall be
able to leave your roof----"

"My father's roof," broke in Morris again.

"I beg pardon--your father's roof--in about a fortnight."

"I am sorry to hear it, sir; and please clear your mind of the idea that
you have ceased to be welcome. Your presence and that of Miss Fregelius
will lessen, not increase, my trouble. I should be lonely in this great
place with no company but that of my own thoughts."

"I am glad to hear you say so. Whether you feel it or not you are kind,
very kind."

And so for the while they parted. When she came in that afternoon, Mr.
Fregelius told Stella the news; but, as it happened, she did not see
Morris until she met him at dinner time.

"You have heard?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," she answered; "and I am sorry, so sorry. I do not know what
more to say."

"There is nothing to be said," answered Morris; "my poor uncle had lived
out his life--he was sixty-eight, you know, and there is an end."

"Were you fond of him? Forgive me for asking, but people are not always
fond--really fond--of those who happen to be their relations."

"Yes, I was very fond of him. He was a good man, though simple and
self-made; very kind to everybody; especially to myself."

"Then do not grieve for him, his pains are over, and some day you will
meet him again, will you not?"

"I suppose so; but in the presence of death faith falters."

"I know; but I think that is when it should be strongest and clearest,
that is when we should feel that whatever else is unreal and false, this
is certain and true."

Morris bowed his head in assent, and there was silence for a while.

"I am afraid that Miss Porson must feel this very much," Stella said
presently.

"Yes, she seems quite crushed. She was his only living child, you know."

"Are you not going to join her?"

"No, I cannot; she has gone into a convent for a month, near Beaulieu,
and I am afraid the Sisters would not let me through their gates."

"Is she a Catholic?"

"Not at all, but an old friend of hers holds some high position in the
place, and she has taken a fancy to be quiet there for a while."

"It is very natural," answered Stella,