"It is the suffering that has made me brave," she answered. "Oh, Geoffry, I am getting to realize the truth that it is better to have too much of suffering in this world than too little. It is a truth hard to learn: but once learnt, it brings happiness in enduring." Sir Geoffry nodded assent. He had learnt somewhat of it also--too late. "I have begun a confidential letter to Colonel Layne, Mary, and shall post it before I die. To thank him for----" The words were drowned in a gleeful commotion--caused by the entrance of Arthur. The boy came dashing in from his afternoon's study with the curate, some books under his arm. "I have not been good, Aunt Mary. He said I gave him no end of trouble; and I'm afraid I did: but, you see, I bought the marbles going along, instead of in coming back, as you told me, and---- Who's that!" In letting his books fall on a side-table, he had caught sight of the stranger--then standing up. The fire had burnt low, and just for the moment even the young eyes did not recognize Sir Geoffry Chavasse. Mary stirred the fire into a blaze, and drew the crimson curtains before the window. "What have you come for?" asked the little lad, as Sir Geoffry took his hand. "Are you any better, sir?" "I shall never be better in this world, Arthur. And so you gave your tutor trouble this afternoon!" "Yes; I am very sorry: I told him so. It was all through the marbles. I couldn't keep my hands out of my pockets. Just look what beauties they are!" Out came a handful of "beauties" of many colours. But Mary, who was standing by the mantelpiece, her face turned away, bade him put them up again. Arthur began to feel that there was some kind of hush upon the room. "I have been talking to Miss Layne about your future--for, do you know, Arthur, you are a favourite of mine," said Sir Geoffry. "Ever since the time when my horse knocked you down--and might have killed you--I have taken a very warm interest in your welfare. I have often wished that you--that you"--he seemed to hesitate in some emotion--"were my own little son and heir to succeed me; but of course that cannot be. I don't know what profession you will choose, or may be chosen for you----" "I should like to be a soldier," interrupted Arthur, lifting his sparkling eyes to Sir Geoffry's. "Your ideas may change before the time for choosing shall come. But a soldier may be as brave a servant of God as of his queen: should you ever become a soldier, will you remember this truth?" "Yes," said Arthur, in a whisper, for the grave tones and manner impressed him with some awe. Sir Geoffry was sitting down and holding Arthur before him. To the latter's intense surprise, he saw two tears standing on the wasted cheeks. It made him feel a sort of discomfort, and he began, as a relief, to play with the chain and seal that hung on the baronet's waistcoat. A transparent seal, with a plain device on it.