s vases stocked with delicate water-plants and
animalcules, with the sunlight gleaming through the green and purple
seaweed fronds, while the air is fresh and fragrant with the seaweed
scent; a quiet, cool little hermitage of science amid that great noisy,
luxurious west-end world. At least, it brings back to him the thought of
the summer sea, and Aberalva, and his shore-studies: but he cannot think
of that any more. It is past; and may God forgive him!

At one of the microscopes on the slab opposite him stands a sturdy
bearded man, his back toward the Major; while the wise little German,
hopeless of customers, is leaning over him in his shirt sleeves.

"But I never have seen its like; it had just like a painter's easel in
its stomach yesterday!"

"Why, it's an Echinus Larva: a sucking sea-urchin! Hang it, if I had
known you hadn't seen one, I'd have brought up half-a-dozen of them!"

"May I look, sir?" asked the Major; "I, too, never have seen an Echinus
Larva."

The bearded man looks up.

"Major Campbell!"

"Mr. Thurnall! I thought I could not be mistaken in the voice."

"This is too pleasant, sir, to renew our watery loves together here,"
said Tom: but a second look at the Major's face showed him that he was
in no jesting mood. "How is the party at Beddgelert? I fancied you with
them still."

"They are all in London, at Lord Scoutbush's house, in Eaton Square."

"In London, at this dull time? I trust nothing unpleasant has brought
them here."

"Mrs. Vavasour is very ill. We had thoughts of sending for you, as the
family physician was out of town: but she was out of danger, thank God,
in a few hours. Now let me ask in turn after you. I hope no unpleasant
business brings you up three hundred miles from your practice?"

"Nothing, I assure you. Only I have given up my Aberalva practice. I am
going to the East."

"Like the rest of the world."

"Not exactly. You go as a dignified soldier of her Majesty's; I as an
undignified Abel Drugger, to dose Bashi-bazouks."

"Impossible! and with such an opening as you had there! You must excuse
me; but my opinion of your prudence must not be so rudely shaken."

"Why do you not ask the question which Balzac's old Tourangeois judge
asks, whenever a culprit is brought before him,--'Who is she?'"

"Taking for granted that there was a woman at the bottom of every
mishap? I understand you," said the Major, with a sad smile. "Now let
you and me walk a little together, a