e whole human race seemed to be worthier of love,
and I longed to diffuse amongst all some rays of the glorious hope that
had dawned upon my heart. My first call, when I went forth, was on the
poor young woman from whom I had been returning the day before, when an
impulse, which seemed like a fate, had lured me into the grounds where I
had first seen Lilian. I felt grateful to this poor patient; without her
Lilian herself might be yet unknown to rue.

The girl's brother, a young man employed in the police, and whose pay
supported a widowed mother and the suffering sister, received me at the
threshold of the cottage.

"Oh, sir, she is so much better to-day; almost free from pain. Will she
live now; can she live?"

"If my treatment has really done the good you say; if she be really
better under it, I think her recovery may be pronounced. But I must
first see her."

The girl was indeed wonderfully better. I felt that my skill was
achieving a signal triumph; but that day even my intellectual pride was
forgotten in the luxurious unfolding of that sense of heart which had so
newly waked into blossom.

As I recrossed the threshold, I smiled on the brother, who was still
lingering there,--

"Your sister is saved, Wady. She needs now chiefly wine, and good though
light nourishment; these you will find at my house; call there for them
every day."

"God bless you, sir! If ever I can serve you--" His tongue faltered, he
could say no more.

Serve me, Allen Fenwick--that poor policeman! Me, whom a king could not
serve! What did I ask from earth but Fame and Lilian's heart? Thrones
and bread man wins from the aid of others; fame and woman's heart he can
only gain through himself.

So I strode gayly up the hill, through the iron gates, into the fairy
ground, and stood before Lilian's home.

The man-servant, on opening the door, seemed somewhat confused, and said
hastily before I spoke,--

"Not at home, sir; a note for you."

I turned the note mechanically in my hand; I felt stunned.

"Not at home! Miss Ashleigh cannot be out. How is she?"

"Better, sir, thank you."

I still could not open the note; my eyes turned wistfully towards
the windows of the house, and there--at the drawing-room window--I
encountered the scowl of Mr. Vigors. I coloured with resentment, divined
that I was dismissed, and walked away with a proud crest and a firm
step.

When I was out of the gates, in the blind lane, I opened the note. It
be