had anxious care, I
had also happiness which had not equal in my life--or ever can have.
The night went by so quickly that the dawn seemed to rush on me, not
stealing as is its wont.

Before nine o'clock I was at Kensington. All anxiety seemed to float
away like a cloud as I met Margaret, and saw that already the pallor of
her face had given to the rich bloom which I knew. She told me that
her father had slept well, and that he would be with us soon.

"I do believe," she whispered, "that my dear and thoughtful Father has
kept back on purpose, so that I might meet you first, and alone!"

After breakfast Mr. Trelawny took us into the study, saying as he
passed in:

"I have asked Margaret to come too." When we were seated, he said
gravely:

"I told you last night that we might have something to say to each
other. I dare say that you may have thought that it was about Margaret
and yourself. Isn't that so?"

"I thought so."

"Well, my boy, that is all right. Margaret and I have been talking,
and I know her wishes." He held out his hand. When I wrung it, and
had kissed Margaret, who drew her chair close to mine, so that we could
hold hands as we listened, he went on, but with a certain
hesitation--it could hardly be called nervousness--which was new to me.

"You know a good deal of my hunt after this mummy and her belongings;
and I dare say you have guessed a good deal of my theories. But these
at any rate I shall explain later, concisely and categorically, if it
be necessary. What I want to consult you about now is this: Margaret
and I disagree on one point. I am about to make an experiment; the
experiment which is to crown all that I have devoted twenty years of
research, and danger, and labour to prepare for. Through it we may
learn things that have been hidden from the eyes and the knowledge of
men for centuries; for scores of centuries. I do not want my daughter
to be present; for I cannot blind myself to the fact that there may be
danger in it--great danger, and of an unknown kind. I have, however,
already faced very great dangers, and of an unknown kind; and so has
that brave scholar who has helped me in the work. As to myself, I am
willing to run any risk. For science, and history, and philosophy may
benefit; and we may turn one old page of a wisdom unknown in this
prosaic age. But for my daughter to run such a risk I am loth. Her
young bright life is too precious to throw lightly away; no