der its muffling cloud of
hair, moved him strangely. He retreated as quietly as he could, and
almost ran into Mrs. Simpson bringing a tray. He beckoned her into a
small room which he used as his own den. But he had hardly explained the
situation, before there were sounds in the drawing-room, and Nelly
opened the door, which he had closed behind him. He had forgotten to
turn out the light, and its glare had awakened her.

'Oh, Sir William--' she said, in bewilderment--'Did you come in just
now?'

He explained his proceedings, retaining the hand she gave him, and
looking down upon her with an impulsive and affectionate pity.

'You were asleep. I disturbed you,' he said, remorsefully.

'Oh no, do come in.'

She led the way into the drawing-room.

'I wanted--specially--to tell you some things I heard at Aldershot
to-day, which I thought might cheer you,' said Farrell.

And sitting beside her, while Mrs. Simpson lit a fire and spread a white
tea-table, he repeated various stories of the safe return of 'missing'
men which he had collected for her that morning, including the narrative
of an escaped prisoner, who, although badly wounded, had managed to find
his way back, at night, from the neighbourhood of Brussels, through
various hairbreadth adventures and disguises, and after many weeks to
the British lines. He brought the tale to her, as an omen of hope,
together with his other gleanings; and under the influence of his
cheerful voice and manner, Nelly's aspect changed; the light came back
into her eyes, which hung upon him, as Farrell talked on, persuading
himself, as he persuaded her. So that presently, when tea came in, and
the kettle boiled, she was quite ready to pour out for him, to ask him
questions about his night journey, and thank him timidly for all his
kindness.

'But this--this is too grand for us!'--she said, looking round her. 'We
must find a lodging soon.'

He begged her earnestly to let the flat be of use to her, and she,
embarrassed and unwilling, but dreading to hurt his feelings, was
compelled at last to submit to a week's stay.

Then he got up to go; and she was very sorry to say good-bye to him. As
for him, in her wistful and gracious charm, she had never seemed to him
more lovely. How she became grief!--in her measure reserve!

He ran down the stairs of the mansion just as Bridget Cookson arrived
with the lift at the third floor. She recognised the disappearing
figure, and stood a moment