"My father? Much the same-there he sits: it is horrible to see him the same, day after day, and I able to do nothing for him. I doubt if he knows even me always."

"Does he ever read the papers?"

"How could he?"

"You know St. Bavons well, of course? Did you ever use to visit among the

poor ?"

"A little-but I was fearfully lazy and selfish in those days."

"Isn't there a place called Old something or other-something Side?" "You mean the Old Wharf-side. A hideous place I was in it once, on some business for my poor father. I never visited there: indeed I never heard of anybody doing so but the police. What do you want to know of such a place ?"

"Nothing-only a matter of business: that's all. I was talking about St. Bavons with Brandon, of the Trumpet, and I wanted to know something. So you never read the papers ?'"

"Never. Even if I cared to, I haven't time."

"Miss Brandt, I've been thinking a lot about you. You are so good, and so brave, and so everything that I never saw any woman that was before-on my honour-that I won't have all this, and it shan't be. You're killing yourself by inches-yards-miles. You're letting your father, poor old gentleman, eat you up by mouthfuls-pounds. I'm not a bad fellow, though I'm as poor as Croesus: but if I wasn't Diogenes, I wouldn't be Alexander."

"You are very good to me-though I can't guess why. But as to my poor father, whom has he to depend on from hour to hour but me? Oh, I am strong enough, never fear. If you, could only tell me how I might work really hard, and get something-I don't care how little. You see we are beyond being ashamed of our poverty," she said, with a bitter smile. "The wolf has passed the door."

She went to her father as she spoke, to shift his pillows. Carol took advantage of her back being turned to feel in his pocket. "Only fourpence!" he exclaimed to himself. "Curse my luck-only fourpence to last till next week, and I came out this morning with ever so many pounds -all gone-burned through the lining-melted away. Never mindfourpence is something, and I'll raise the wind somehow, I daresay." So he placed the four coppers at the back of the mantle-piece, where she might find them by accident and think they had been carelessly mislaid.

Zelda had thrown away a thousand pounds; Carol only deprived himself of the certainty of quenching his thirst for a few hours. But if the ' sacrifice was to be judged without reference to expenditure, Carol's surpassed Zelda's by precisely four pennies. His was worth nothing plus a pint of beer: hers was worth precisely nothing at all.

Claudia shifted the pillows. But Carol, while in the act of emptying his empty pockets, was startled by a slight but sudden cry. He started

forward-Mr. Brandt's face was distorted fearfully, and his head had fallen down on the chest, as if the neck had lost all power to support it. For a moment he stood as helpless as the old man: but a glance at Claudia's agonised face that turned to him for help had the miraculous effect of absolutely inspiring him with presence of mind in time of need.

"A doctor!" he cried out; "I know-hold hard till I'm back again. I'll bring the best in the world-it's but a step, and I'll run."

Claudia looked a world of thanks that gave him wings, and then did the best she could do, helpless and alone as she was, to prevent aid from coming too late. Was it death itself, or was it another stroke that was only bringing death nearer ? In either case, the hand of death was on him, but it would be something too fearful if the final blow descended now. Having done all she could, she could only watch his face and hold his pulse, so as to be in readiness for the slightest change. Carol was away a long time-so long, that she thought he would never return. She went backwards and forwards from the window to the chair, and from the chair again to the window, her heart rushing into her throat at the sound of every passing vehicle, and sinking down again as it rolled by. She would be obliged to seek herself for nearer aid-but how for a moment could she leave the perhaps dying man alone? At last, without her hearing it, a cab stopped at the door, and her ear caught the sound of hurrying footsteps on the stairs. She ran to the door of the room, and found herself face to face with Harold Vaughan.

CHAPTER XVI.

CUP AND LIP.

I OPENED the door, and found myself face to face with Claudia Brandt. Carol had not warned me of the name of the patient to whom he had called me in so suddenly. Had I been warned-such was the weakness of my heart in those days-I almost doubt whether I should have obeyed the summons. There were twenty other surgeons close at hand, without my intruding where my presence could lead to no good and might lead to much harm. As things were, however, I had no occasion to collect my. self-her own obvious self-forgetfulness removed all conscious embarrassment from a meeting that must have been as little expected by her as by Whatever we had been, whatever we might be hereafter, we were now strangers-she was only the daughter, I only the physician. And for my own part, I was by this time so accustomed to the caprices of Fate as to be simply startled for a moment without being really surprised. As for her, her eyes spoke only of her father, and of appeal to one who had once helped her in an emergency, and who therefore might help her again. I knew that look of trust well, and it spoke to me clearly though she spoke no word. She only pointed to the arm-chair by the grate, in which

me.

lay he whom I had last seen in the fulness of health and vigour. I wasted no time or effort in attempting to speak, but went straight to Mr. Brandt's side, followed by her.

The case was critical. I threw myself into it, nor was it till everything I could think of had been carried out that I at last turned to Claudia and spoke to her-for the first time since we had promised to be all in all to one another for our whole life long. How unutterably strange it seemed to have parted from her with a kiss of love, and to have to meet her, in the depth of her suffering, with colder and more formal speech than I should have addressed to the most utter stranger who chanced to have need of me! But it was all over now, and nothing was left but to make this parting the very last, and so to speak and act that it might clearly declare itself to be the very end.

"I have been doing everything, Miss Brandt. I will come again in an hour's time; but I suppose you have a medical attendant who understands Mr. Brandt's general condition better than I? I would have made you send for him sooner, but time was too precious to think of etiquette. However, you had better send for him now, and I will meet him and explain."

"And

?" she began to ask tremblingly.

No, he will not die, with proper care. It was a second stroke, and it ought not to kill." I thought myself hardened, but the look of her anxious face pierced me through and through. I had seen many a face as anxious beside many sick-beds, and here, as elsewhere, I was only the doctor who had been sent for in an accidental emergency. But my eyes, as they turned from her, were obliged to travel to her surroundings: and they were shocked and dismayed. If I had seen many such sick-beds, I had witnessed but three cases of such glaring poverty-Mrs. Goldrick's, my own, and now hers.

This was something more than humiliation. I could have found it in my heart to be glad that Claudia should have known sorrow of the heart and mind, for in such creatures of the earth as I am love has its cruel side, and scorned love is wormlike and clings to earth, and will turn long before the worm. But Claudia, who spent half her days lounging on a sofa, who lived in the very monotony of idle luxury, with whom even artistic labour had been but the indulgence of a fancy-that this Claudia whom I had known should be reduced to want and poverty beyond what even I had found too great to bear, seemed monstrous and beyond the grasp of belief. Carol had given me an anonymous outline of her story in broken scraps so far as the rattling of the cab would allow me to hear them; but I was utterly unprepared for what I saw. I had felt insulted by her supposed gift of money, but I would have insulted her likewise ten times over. I could see at a glance how she had worn herself into a mere shadow of her former self; and the bank-notes that I dared not allow to leave my own person began to burn. What if they had been sent me direct by chance or Providence ?—I had arrived at accepting as cer

tain the existence of some power outside and superior to our own will. What if chance or Providence had sent all this wealth to me in order that it might enable me to some extent to act as Fortune's almoner, and with the same view had called me once more into a presence from which I had banished myself for ever?

I trod the very boards of the room delicately, as if they were made of the wood that grows in dreams. I could not go without learning how far such a terrible downfall as that of which I saw the results before me could possibly be true. Claudia must be impatient of my presence, nor would I prolong her anxiety: however reckless she might have been of my happiness, her misfortunes had rendered her sacred. But then I should be merely brutal if, having it in my power to serve her, I lost an oppor tunity of finding out the way. If only Carol would put it out of his head for a moment that his presence was indispensable.

To my astonishment, it was he himself who relieved me of my difficulty. He had not spoken a word since we arrived together; and now his first and only words were,

"Miss Brandt, you must want to speak to my friend, the Doctor. Have I been of any use?"

"What should I have done without you, Mr. Carol?" and she held out her hand. "You have been our only friend."

It was not intended, but there seemed a sting in her words that I chose to apply to myself.

"And I'll be your only one till you have a hundred- -a thousand-& million-and then I'll come in at the tail end."

Was this Carol? Impossible. The only thing that seemed like himself was, that he refilled his pipe as he left the room.

While he was there I wanted to be rid of him now that he was gone, I wished him back again.

"I don't know how to say it," I began, "but I also wish to be your friend."

"And I am grateful to you also," she said quietly. "Not only so, but I must ask you to do me another favour. I cannot forget that you have perhaps saved my father's life."-" Perhaps !" what a piece of accuracy at such a time!" But such a meeting has no doubt been as painful to you as it has been to me. You know me well enough, Dr. Vaughan, to know that I am one of those unlucky people who can't help saying exactly what they mean. You would, no doubt, do your best for my father, because he is a patient, but I cannot allow you to do anything for my sake. I would have given anything but my father's life that Mr. Carol had brought any one but you. So the favour I ask you is to send some medical man whom you can trust, and who will not ask too large a fee. And when you have done that for me I will give you as many thanks as you need, and ask you to come no more."

Her colour heightened as she spoke, but clearly from no sense of guilt or shame. Was this how she could address me? It was as though

I, instead of being the injured, had been the injurer-as though the rupture of our engagement had come from me, and not from her.

"I cannot submit to that," I said, feeling the mounting colour in her cheeks reflecting itself on my own. "I do know your frankness and honesty,❞—I trust I laid no suspicious stress on the words" and I will not be behindhand with you. All my misfortunes have come, I think, from mysteries and half-words. hate them all, and will have no more. It would be childish in us to play at not knowing what we were once to one another, and what, if it had depended on me, we should have been still. Therefore I will not leave you now dependent only on your own strength. If you have no medical attendant, it is my duty to aid you with all the power I have, simply to satisfy myself that I have forgiven all things from my heart, and will be your friend whether you allow it or no." "Forgiven? Is that the word for you to use?

"Forgive me― -I will say forgotten, then. I know that a woman may do as she pleases, and the man is always to blame. But this is no time for discussions-we can quarrel no more. I only mean, Miss Brandt, that I mean to serve your father until, as Carol says, he needs me no longer." "You are right, it is no time, and it never will be. I, too, have forgotten. But I never tried to forgive: it is not so easy for me as for you, and I should fail."

"Well, so be it. I suppose it is weak enough in me to care whether you will accept my aid, without wondering any longer at the power of idle tales. Let us talk as mere acquaintance, then. You still paint, I see?" I thought of Lord Lisburn--I could at any rate help her to a patron: and if not, I might feign a name as well as she. Claudia Brandt could not suspect Harold Vaughan of intruding his unwelcome help upon her if the paintings of H. Vincent were purchased by some Smith or Jones for a thousand pounds. I might surely consider the gift my own now, whoever the anonymous donor might be, and, if not, I confess that my conscience would not feel troubled in thus disposing of it.

"You see," she said.

I opened one of her portfolios at hazard.

"Not that, if you please," she exclaimed hastily. But it was too late, if she wished to hide my own portrait from me. I pretended not to have seen it, however, and turned to the next carelessly, before closing the cover.

"Who is this?" It was impossible to pretend carelessness when I looked on the features of Mrs. Goldrick, of St. Bavons-hers, and no other's, if there was any truth in lines.

"Only the mother of one of my father's clerks-that's all."

"It is strange. Did you know her?"

"I saw her once, and sketched her from memory." Claudia, whose fingers could not be idle, took up her sewing, and contented herself with answering questions. I ought to have gone, but how could I leave her alone immediately with her father, whose state was more critical than I had dared to tell. Though she hated my presence, I must remain.