ad he of the lamplight? He was too
weary for reading; he preferred going to sleep again, and dreaming again
of Sally. Where was the harm in dreaming of the poor little soul, so far
away from him? The happiest part of his life now was the part of it that
was passed in sleep.

As the fresh coals began to kindle feebly, he looked again at the
lamp. It was odd, to say the least of it, that the light should have
accidentally gone out, exactly at the right time to realize the fanciful
extinction of it in his dream. How was it there was no smell of a
burnt-out lamp? He was too lazy, or too tired, to pursue the question.
Let the mystery remain a mystery--and let him rest in peace! He settled
himself fretfully in his chair. What a fool he was to bother his head
about a lamp, instead of closing his eyes and going to sleep again!

The room began to recover its pleasant temperature. He shifted the
cushion in the chair, so that it supported his head in perfect comfort,
and composed himself to rest. But the capricious influences of sleep had
deserted him: he tried one position after another, and all in vain.
It was a mere mockery even to shut his eyes. He resigned himself
to circumstances, and stretched out his legs, and looked at the
companionable fire.

Of late he had thought more frequently than usual of his past days in
the Community. His mind went back again now to that bygone time. The
clock on the mantelpiece struck nine. They were all at supper, at
Tadmor--talking over the events of the day. He saw himself again at the
long wooden table, with shy little Mellicent in the chair next to him,
and his favourite dog at his feet waiting to be fed. Where was Mellicent
now? It was a sad letter that she had written to him, with the strange
fixed idea that he was to return to her one day. There was something
very winning and lovable about the poor creature who had lived such a
hard life at home, and had suffered so keenly. It was a comfort to think
that she would go back to the Community. What happier destiny could she
hope for? Would she take care of his dog for him when she went back?
They had all promised to be kind to his pet animals in his absence; but
the dog was fond of Mellicent; he would be happier with Mellicent than
with the rest of them. And his little tame fawn, and his birds--how were
they doing? He had not even written to inquire after them; he had been
cruelly forgetful of those harmless dumb loving friends. In his pre