n, sobbing as if her heart would break. Perhaps she was
thinking of the approaching farewell.

CHAPTER XXVI.

TOWARDS THE DAWN.

On the Tuesday about midday, according to her promise, Miss Burgoyne
called and again preferred her request. And, short of a downright lie,
Mangan saw no way of refusing her.

"At the same time," he said, in the cold manner which he unconsciously
adopted towards this young lady, "you must remember he is far from
strong yet; and I hope you have nothing to say to him that would cause
agitation, or even involve his speaking much. His voice has to be taken
care of, as well as his general condition."

"Oh, you may trust me for that," said she, with decision. "Do you think
_I_ don't know how important that is?"

Miss Burgoyne went into the room. Lionel was still in bed, but propped
up in a sitting posture; and to keep his arms and shoulders warm he had
donned a gorgeous smoking-jacket, the fantastic colors of which were
hardly in keeping with his character as invalid. He knew of her arrival,
and had laid aside the paper he had been reading.

"I am so glad to know you are getting on so satisfactorily," said Miss
Burgoyne, in her most pleasant way. "And they tell me your voice will be
all right too. Of course you must exercise great caution; it will be
some time before you can begin your _vocalises_ again."

"How is Doyle doing?" he asked, in a fairly clear voice.

"Oh, pretty well," said she, but in rather a dissatisfied fashion. "It
is difficult to say what it is that is wanting--he looks well, acts
well, sings well--a very good performance altogether--and yet--it is
respectable, and nothing more. He really has a good voice, as you know,
and thoroughly well trained; but it seems to me as if there were in his
singing everything but the one thing--everything but the thrill that
makes your breath stop at times. However," added Miss Burgoyne, out of
her complaisance, "the public will wait a long time before they find
any one to sing 'The Starry Night' as you sang it, and as I hope you'll
be singing it again before long."

She was silent for a second or two; she seemed to have something to say,
and yet to hesitate about saying it.

"I hear you are going to Italy when you are strong enough to travel?"
she observed, at last.

"That is what they advise."

"You will be away for some time?"

"I suppose so."

And again she sat silent for a little while, pulling at the fringe of
her