will give me the same; and the rest I can get
from our friends and acquaintances about here. Don't be impatient
with me, dear Maurice; and some day I will take you down to
Whitechapel and show you the very prettiest sight in the whole
world--and that is Sister Alexandra with her fifty children...."

Maurice Mangan read this passage as he was driving in a hansom along
Pall Mall, on his way to call on Lionel. The previous portion of the
letter, which more intimately concerned herself and himself, he had read
several times over before coming out, studying every phrase of it as if
it were an individual treasure, and trying to listen for the sound of
her voice in every sentence. And as for this more practical matter,
why, although he was rather a poor man, he thought he was not going to
allow Frances to wander about in search of grudging shillings and
half-crowns so long as he himself could come to her aid; so at the foot
of St. James Street he stopped the hansom, went into the
telegraph-office, and sent off the following message: "Five pounds will
reach you to-morrow morning. You cannot refuse my first gift in
our new relationship.--Maurice." And thereafter he went on to
Piccadilly--feeling richer, indeed, rather than poorer.

When he rang the bell at Lionel's lodgings, it was with no very clear
idea of the message or counsel he was bringing with him; but the news he
now received put all these things out of his head. The house-porter
appeared, looking somewhat concerned.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Moore is up-stairs; but I'm afraid he's very unwell."

"What is the matter?" Maurice asked, instantly.

"He must have got wet coming home last night, sir; and he has caught a
bad cold. I've just been for Dr. Whitsen, and he will be here at
twelve."

"But Dr. Whitsen is a throat doctor."

"Yes, sir; but it is always his throat Mr. Moore is most anxious about;
and when he found himself husky this morning, he would take nothing but
a raw egg beaten up and a little port-wine negus; and now he won't
speak--he will only write on a piece of paper. He is saving himself for
the theatre to-night, sir, I think that is it; but would you like to go
up and see him?"

"Oh, yes, I will go up and see him," Mangan said; and without more ado
he ascended the stairs and made his way into Lionel's bedroom.

He found his friend under a perfect mountain of clothes that had been
heaped upon him; and certainly he was not shivering now--o