Well, Leonard, this is the first time thou hast shown that thou hast in thee the iron out of which true manhood is forged and shaped. Thou hast _the power to resist_. Forth, unebriate, unpolluted, he came from the orgy, as yon star above him came from the cloud. He had a latch-key to his lodging. He let himself in, and walked noiselessly up the creaking, wooden stair. It was dawn. He passed on to his window, and threw it open. The green elm-tree from the carpenter's yard looked as fresh and fair as if rooted in solitudes, leagues away from the smoke of Babylon. "Nature, Nature!" murmured Leonard, "I hear thy voice now. This stills--this strengthens. But the struggle is very dread. Here, despair of life--there, faith in life. Nature thinks of neither, and lives serenely on." By-and-by a bird slid softly from the heart of the tree, and dropped on the ground below out of sight. But Leonard heard its carol. It awoke its companions--wings began to glance in the air, and the clouds grew red toward the east. Leonard sighed and left the window. On the table, near Helen's rose-tree, which he bent over wistfully, lay a letter. He had not observed it before. It was in Helen's hand. He took it to the light, and read it by the pure healthful gleams of morn: "Oh my dear brother Leonard, will this find you well, and (more happy I dare not say, but) less sad than when we parted? I write kneeling, so that it seems to me as if I wrote and prayed at the same time. You may come and see me to-morrow evening, Leonard. Do come, do--we shall walk together in this pretty garden; and there is an arbor all covered with jessamine and honeysuckle, from which we can look down on London. I have looked from it so many times--so many--trying if I can guess the roofs in our poor little street, and fancying that I do see the dear elm-tree. "Miss Starke is very kind to me; and I think, after I have seen you, that I shall be happy here--that is, if you are happy. "Your own grateful sister, "HELEN. "Ivy Lodge." "P.S.--Any one will direct you to our house; it lies to the left, near the top of the hill, a little way down a lane which is overhung on one side with chestnut trees and lilies. I shall be watching for you at the gate." Leonard's brow softened, he looked again like his former self. Up from the dark sea at his heart smiled the meek face of a child, and the waves lay still as at the charm of a spirit. CHAPTER XXIII. "And what is Mr. Burley, and what has he written?" asked Leonard of Mr. Prickett when he returned to the shop. Let us reply to that question in our own words, for we know more about Mr. Burley than Mr. Prickett does.