She rose, and began to feel about for her cloak that had fallen across

the arm of her chair. But she was half blind with weeping, and Dr.

Lavendar found it for her and gently put it over her shoulders.

"I will go away," she said, "but I may see him again, mayn't I? Just

once more, to say good-by to him."

"Yes," he said.

"I'll send his little things down to you to-morrow, Dr. Lavendar.

Oh,--his dear little things!"

"Very well."

He lighted a lantern for her, but made no offer to see her home, or to

send his Mary along as an escort. Yet when he let her go away into the

rainy darkness, he stood in the doorway a long while, looking after

her. Then he went back to the study, to pace up and down, up and down.

Twice he stopped and looked out of the window, and then at the clock.

But each time he put the impulse aside. He must not interfere.

It was almost midnight before he took his lamp and went up-stairs; at

David's door he hesitated, and then went in. The little boy was lying

curled up like a puppy, his face almost hidden in his pillow, but his

cheek glowing red under the soft thatch of hair. Dr. Lavendar, shading

his lamp with one hand, looked down at him a long time. On the wall

behind him and half-way across the ceiling, the old man's shadow

loomed wavering and gigantic, and the light, flickering up on his

face, deepened the lines of age and of other people's troubles. By and

by he stooped down, and gently laid his old palm upon the little head.

When he lifted himself up his face was full of peace.




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