"He will never be any better unless he has change," replied the doctor. "Neither I nor any other man can now do more for him. He requires, nay, he is dying for want of nature's remedies, complete change, fresh, mild sea-air. I told his mother so most plainly yesterday. I recommended Torquay within a week from now, if she wishes to save his life." "Torquay is an expensive place, and a very long way from London," replied Hinton. "It seems almost cruel to tell Mrs. Home to do that for her child which must be utterly impossible." "There is no other chance for his life," replied the doctor. "I should be doing less than my duty, did I for a moment conceal that fact." Hinton paused for a moment to think, then he abruptly changed the subject. "I want to visit a friend this morning--a friend who has never had scarlet fever. It is rather important that we should meet; but I must not risk danger. You know I have been a good deal with the little boy. Is there a risk to my friend in our meeting now?" "Change all your clothes," replied the doctor; "wear nothing you have in the Homes' house. Perhaps it would also be a wise precaution to take a Turkish bath. If you do all this you may meet your friend without the slightest risk of evil consequences." Hinton thanked the doctor, and as the result of this conversation entered the dining-room in Prince's Gate just as Charlotte was sitting down to her solitary luncheon. It was over three weeks since these two had met, and the long three weeks had seemed like for ever to the loving heart of the woman, who was so soon now to be Hinton's wife. She expressed her joy at this unexpected meeting, not so much by words, but so effectually with eyes and manner, that Hinton, as he folded his arms round her, could not help a great throb of thankfulness rising up from his heart. They sat down to lunch, and then afterwards Hinton told her the story of little Harold Home. In telling this tale, however, he omitted again both name and address. He had not meant when beginning his tale to keep these things any longer a mystery from her, but as the words dropped from him, and Charlotte's eyes were fixed on his face, and Charlotte's lips trembled with emotion, some undefined sensation prompted him to keep back these particulars. Hinton, in coming to Charlotte, relied on her help, but he meant her just now to bestow it as on a stranger. As he had expected, his tale aroused her warmest enthusiasm and interest. "John," she said, "something must be done. The boy must not die!" "He must go to Torquay," replied Hinton. "That is most manifest. But the difficulty will be how. They are very proud people. The difficulty will be how to induce them to accept aid from outsiders."