fellow, he is a mere wreck of a man. You had
better take pity and hear what he has to say, for his position is very
forlorn in that rambling old place. I have provided him with an
experienced woman as nurse, and his father's friends look in on him, but
it is a pitiable case. I will drive you to Rock House. Let me advise you
not to delay.'

'I must get leave,' Bryda said, with trembling lips, 'I must get leave.
And oh,' she exclaimed, clasping her hands, 'I do dread it--I do dread
it.'

'Well, there's nothing to fear. The poor fellow can scarcely lift a
finger. Not only his head but his back has had a sharp concussion. He
can never be the same man again, unless by a miracle, and we doctors
can't work miracles.'

Mrs Lambert gave a very reluctant permission to Bryda, and began to
wonder what she should do about the 'chayney' the next day. It was the
day for washing and dusting the best 'chayney' in the glass cupboard,
but she supposed she must suffer inconvenience--it always was her fate.

'Pray when will you return, miss?' she asked.

'I should like to stay at home for Sunday, madam.'

'Sunday! And who is to walk with me to church? Dear me! how
inconsiderate you are! I suppose you think a gentlewoman like me can
take Mrs Symes' arm?'

Bryda thought nothing about it, but left the room to tell Mr Barrett she
would be ready at the hour he was pleased to name.

'It must be early--say eight o'clock, Miss Palmer;' and he added,
looking anxiously into her face, 'don't fret, or we shall have you ill
next,' and taking Bryda's little thin hand in his the doctor felt her
pulse. 'You are weak as a fly,' he said. 'Give up here and go home. We
will talk more of it to-morrow. Good-day.'

CHAPTER XVI

FORGIVENESS.

During the drive to Rock House the kind-hearted surgeon did his best to
divert Bryda from dwelling upon the past or the dreaded interview with
Mr Bayfield. He did not know how sharp was the pang his companion felt
as the old thorn tree came in sight, nor how she bit her lips and
clenched the rail of the high gig with a grasp that gave her physical
pain to deaden the terrible ache at her heart.

Mr Barrett talked of many things in all ignorance of the intensity of
her feelings, roused by the sight of the very spot where she had last
seen Jack and that rigid upturned face.

'You take an interest in the poor boy Chatterton, Miss Palmer, I know. I
am afraid the sunshine of his first weeks in London is a