“Good-bye.” And here befell a thing so strange--so unexpected, that if I think of it, it seems as if I must have been dreaming; as if, while all the rest of the events of to-day, which I have so quietly written down, were perfectly natural, real, and probable--this alone were something unreal, and impossible to tell--hardly right to tell. And yet--oh me! it is not wrong--though it makes my cheek burn and my hand tremble--this poor little hand. I thought he had gone--and was standing on the door-step, preparing to lock up--when Doctor Urquhart came back again along the walk. It was he--though in manner and voice so unlike himself--that even now I can hardly believe the whole is not a delusion. “For God's sake--for pity's sake--do not utterly forget me, Theodora.” And then--then-- He said once, that every man ought to hold every woman sacred; that, if not of her own kindred, he had no right, except as the merest salutation, even to press her hand. Unless--unless he loved her. Then, why-- No: I ought not to write it, and I will not. It is--if it is anything--something sacred between him and me--something in which no one else has any part--which may not be told to anyone--except in my prayers. My heart is so full. I will close this and say my prayers. CHAPTER IV. HER STORY. _Treherne Court_. Where, after another month's pause, I resume my journal. Papa and I have been here a week. At the last moment Penelope declined going, saying that some one ought to keep house at Rock-mount. I wished to do so; but she would not allow me. This is a fine place, and papa enjoys it extremely. The enforced change, the complete upsetting of his former solitary ways, first by Lisabel's marriage, and then by his own illness, seem to have made him quite young again. Before we left, Doctor Black pronounced him entirely recovered; that he might reasonably look forward to a healthy, green old age. God grant it! For, altered as he is, in so many ways, by some imperceptible influence; having wider interests--is it wrong to write affections?--than he has had for the last twenty years, he will enjoy life far more than ever before. Ah me; how can any body really enjoy life without having others to make happy, and to draw happiness from? Doctor Black wished, as a matter of professional etiquette, that papa should once again consult Dr. Urquhart, about his taking this long northern journey; but on sending to the camp we found he was “absent on leave,” and had been for some time. Papa was disappointed and a little annoyed. It was strange, rather; but might have been sudden and important business, connected with the plans of which he told me, and which I did not quite feel justified in communicating further, till he informs papa himself.