We could not hope to hear more for at least six weeks, since our letter had come by overland mail, and the _Douro_ would take her time. It was a comfort in this waiting time that Martyn could be with us. His rector had been promoted; there was a general change of curates; and as Martyn had been working up to the utmost limits of his strength, we had no scruple in inducing him to remain with us, and undertake nothing fresh till this crisis was past. Though as to rest, not one Sunday passed without requests for his assistance from one or more of the neighbouring clergy. CHAPTER XLV. ACHIEVED. ‘And hopes and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued— Subdued and cherished long.’ S. T. COLERIDGE. THE first that we did hear of our brother was a letter with a Falmouth postmark, which we scarcely dared to open. There was not much in it, but that was enough. ‘D. G.—I shall see you all again. We put in at Portsmouth.’ There was no staying at home after that. We three lost no time in starting, for railways had become available, and by the time we had driven from the station at Portsmouth the _Douro_ had been signalled. Martyn took a boat and went on board alone, for besides that Emily did not like to leave me, her dress would have been a revelation that _all_ were no longer there to greet the arrival. The precaution was, however, unnecessary. There stood Clarence on deck, and after the first greeting, he laid his hand on Martyn’s arm and said, ‘My mother is gone?’ and on the wondering assent, ‘I was quite sure of it.’ So they came ashore, Clarence lying in the man-of-war’s boat, in which his friend insisted on sending him, able now to give a smiling response and salute to the three cheers with which the crew took leave of him. He was carried up to our hotel on a stretcher by half-a-dozen blue jackets. Indeed he was grievously changed, looking so worn and weak, so hollow-eyed and yellow, and so fearfully wasted, that the very memory is painful; and able to do nothing but lie on the sofa holding Emily’s hand, gazing at us with a face full of ineffable peace and gladness. There was a misgiving upon me that he had only come back to finish his work and bid us farewell. Kindly and considerately they had sent him on before with Martyn. In a quarter of an hour’s time his good doctor came in with Lawrence Frith, a considerable contrast to our poor Clarence, for the slim gypsy lad had developed into a strikingly handsome man, still slender and lithe, but with a fine bearing, and his bronzed complexion suiting well with his dark shining hair and beautiful eyes. They had brought some of the luggage, and the doctor insisted that his patient should go to bed directly, and rest completely before trying to talk.