Going up the room, he found himself near the top of it without having found a seat, and he stood looking about him, when a demonstration a little to one side caused him to turn, and he saw a small, lean hand beckoning to him, and a thin, eager-looking face, brimming over with pleasure, asking him, as loudly as silent expressiveness can ask, to come and sit beside her, and, what was more to the purpose, pointing out a space close to her for his accommodation. It was his little patient, Effie Johnson, radiant in the proud consciousness of a new frock, and an unheard-of treat—that of being the only one of her brethren and sisters privileged to be present at the concert. He nodded and smiled, and gradually made his way to her, receiving many a greeting on his way from ‘all sorts and conditions’ of men and women. Effie was on a side-bench, he found, and his place was beside her; but it was a side-bench at the end nearest the platform. Her mother sat at one side of her, and greeted Michael with a nod, and an unusually serene smile. When he was seated, Michael found that amongst his near neighbours were Eleanor Askam, who had found a seat beside Mrs. Parker, after all; and beside Miss Askam, his brother Gilbert. He did not see either Otho or Miss Wynter, and was a little puzzled; for Dr. Rowntree had told him of Eleanor’s note to his sister, explaining why she could not go with her. If he did not see Magdalen or Otho, he did see very distinctly upon Eleanor’s face an expression of gravity and even anxiety, impossible to be mistaken; a very different expression from the one of hope and strength and light-heartedness which she had worn when he had first seen her. Gilbert’s countenance wore an expression of composure and even contentment. Michael sat still, and the crowded, lighted room, and loud voices of the singers seemed to disappear. He was alone with his brother. In all the years that had passed since his breaking with Gilbert, in all the occasions on which Gilbert had been in Bradstane since then, they had never met thus closely, and, as it were, side by side. A deep oppression came over Michael’s heart. What was this thing that he felt? He scarcely seemed to himself the same man he had been, even five minutes ago. Gilbert and Eleanor, sitting side by side, and, as it were, alone; that was all of which he was really conscious. ‘Where have you been for such a long time, Dr. Langstroth?’ whispered Effie, as she nestled up to his side with the confidence of childhood—that confidence which is seldom at fault. ‘I have been very busy, Effie, and I have neglected you. I am going to amend my conduct very soon.’ ‘But you never forget us, do you?’ said Effie. ‘No, I never forget you, my child; I will come and see you soon.’ Contented, she was silent, and observed the scene with her bright, keen childish eyes looking from her little thin face.