ch a sobering lesson in their lives as their share in
the mischief to you."

"It was not their fault," said Herbert. "It was deeper down than
that. And they were good girls after all, if one only had had
sense."

"Oh!--"

"Nonsense, Jenny," with a little smile, as he read her face, "I'm
not bitten--no--but they, and poor Lady Tyrrell, and all are proof
enough that it is easy to turn my head, and that I am one who ought
to keep out of that style of thing for the future. So do silence
Phil, for you know when he gets a thing into his head how he goes
on, and I do not think I can bear it now."

"I am sure you can't," said Jenny, emphatically, "and I'll do my
best. Only, Herbie, dear, do one thing for me, don't bind yourself
by any regular renunciations of moderate things now your mind is
excited, and you are weak. I am sure Julius or Dr. Easterby would
say so."

"I'll think," said Herbert. "But if I am forgiven for this year,
nothing seems to me too much to give up to the Great Shepherd to
show my sorrow. 'Feed My sheep' was the way He bade St. Peter prove
his love."

Jenny longed to say it was feeding the sheep rather than self-
privation, but she was not sure of her ground, and Herbert's low,
quiet, soft voice went to her heart. There were two great tears on
his cheeks, he shut his eyes as if to keep back any more, and turned
his face inwards on the sofa, his lips still murmuring over 'Feed My
sheep.' She looked at him, feeling as if, while her heart had
wakened to new glad hopes of earth, her brother, in her fulfilled
prayer, had soared beyond her. They were both quite still till Mrs.
Duncombe came to the door.

She was at the Rectory, her house being dismantled, and she, having
stayed till the last case of fever was convalescent, and the Sisters
recalled, was to go the next day to her mother-in-law's. She was
almost as much altered as Herbert himself. Her jaunty air had given
way to something equally energetic, but she looked wiry and worn,
and her gold pheasant's crest had become little more than a sandy
wisp, as she came quietly in and took the hand that Herbert held out
to her, saying how glad she was to see him on the mend.

He asked after some of the people whom they had attended together,
and listened to the details, asking specially after one or two
families, where one or both parents had been taken away. "Poor
Cecil Poynsett is undertaking them," was the answer in each case.
Some had be