come for the breakfast things."

"Oh!" she said, in a slightly disappointed tone. "You are not going to
church to-day." For Thorne was more picturesquely careless in his apparel
than is the wont of the British church-goer.

A rapid change of mind enabled him to answer truthfully, "Yes, I am. I
ought to get ready, I suppose. Did you want me for anything, Miss Lisle?"

"Were you going to St. Sylvester's, or not?"

Percival had known by her tone that she wanted him to go to church. But he
did not know which church claimed his attendance, so he answered
cautiously, "Oh, I hardly know. I think I should like some one to make up
my mind for me. Are you going with your brother?"

"Yes," said Judith. "He isn't very well to-day. I was rather frightened by
his fainting just now."

"Of course I'll go with you," said Percival. "I'll be ready in two
minutes. Been fainting? Is he better now?"

"Much better. Will you really?" And Judith vanished.

Percival was perhaps a little longer than the time he had named, but he
soon came out in a very different character from that of the young man who
had lounged over his late breakfast in his shabby coat. He looked
anxiously at young Lisle as they started, but Bertie's appearance was
hardly such as to call for immediate alarm. He seemed well enough,
Percival thought, though perhaps a little excited. In truth, there was not
much amiss with him. He had got over the uneasy sense of self-reproach:
the sudden shock which had caused his dismay was past, and as he went his
way, solemnly escorted by his loving sister and his devoted friend, he was
suffering much more from suppressed laughter than from anything else.
Everything was a joke, and the narrowness of his escape that morning was a
greater joke than all. "By Jove! what a laugh we will have over it one of
these days!" thought Lisle as he put on his surplice.

Loving eyes followed him as he went to his place, and his name was fondly
breathed in loving prayers.

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE LAST MUSIC-LESSON.

On the Tuesday morning Bertie was late for breakfast, and came in yawning
rather ostentatiously. Judith protested good-humoredly: "Lie in bed late
_or_ yawn, but you can't want to do both. Why, it is eleven hours since
you went up to bed!" This was perfectly true, but not so much to the point
as she supposed.

Ever since the mysterious fainting-fit Judith had watched him with tender
anxiety, and it seemed to her that there was s