ll I saw him married, perhaps, when
it would have been no matter."

"When you see a man walking in his sleep you do your best to stop him,"
said the Colonel.

"And so cause him to fall over the precipice and be dashed to bits. Oh!
you should have let me finish my journey. Then I should have come back
to the bed that I have made to lie on, and waked to find myself alone,
and nobody would have been hurt except myself who caused the evil."

The Colonel could not continue this branch of the conversation. Even to
him, a hardened vessel, as he had defined himself, it was too painful.

"You said you mean to earn a living in London. How?"

"By my voice and violin, if one can sing and play with a sore heart. I
have an old aunt, a sister of my father's, who is a music mistress, with
whom I daresay I can arrange to live, and who may be able to get me some
introductions."

"I hope that I can help you there, and I will to the best of my ability;
indeed, if necessary, I will go to town and see about things. Allow me
to add this, Miss Fregelius, that I think you are doing a very brave
thing, and, what is more, a very wise one; and I believe that before
long we shall hear of you as the great new contralto."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It may be; I don't care. Good-bye. By the
way, I wish to see Mr. Monk once more before I go; it would be better
for us all. I suppose that you don't object to that, do you?"

"Miss Fregelius, my son is a man advancing towards middle age. It is
entirely a point for you and him to decide, and I will only say that I
have every confidence in you."

"Thank you," she answered, and turning, walked rapidly down the lonely
beach till her figure melted into the gathering gloom of the winter's
night. Once, however, when she thought that she was out of eyeshot, he
saw her stop with her face towards the vast and bitter sea, and saw also
that she was wringing her hands in an agony of the uttermost despair.

"She looks like a ghost," said the Colonel aloud with a little shiver,
"like a helpless, homeless ghost, with the world behind her and the
infinite in front, and nothing to stand on but a patch of shifting sand,
wet with her own tears."

When the Colonel grew thus figurative and poetical it may be surmised by
anyone who has taken the trouble to study his mixed and somewhat worldly
character that he was deeply moved. And he was moved; more so, indeed,
than he had been since the death of his wife. Why? H