"No, you can't," she answered sorrowfully. "I wish you could." "I've only the faintest and most shadowy recollection--just a dim idea of somebody," he replied. "But in my little childish troubles I always had you. I don't think I wanted any one else." Judith took his hand in hers, and held it for a moment fondly clasped: "You can't think how much I like to hear you say that." Lisle blushed, and was thankful for the dim light. "Do you know," he said hurriedly, "I rather think I may have a chance of giving old Clifton warning before long?" "Oh, Bertie! Where could you get anything else as good?" "Not five-and-twenty miles away." Bertie named a place which they had passed on their journey to Brenthill. "Gordon of our choir told me of it this evening. I think I shall run over to-morrow and make inquiries." "But why would it be so much better?" "There's a big grammar school and they have a chapel. I should be organist there." "But do they pay more?" she persisted. "Hardly as much to the organist perhaps. But I could give lessons in the school, Gordon tells me, and make no end of money so. Oh, it would be a first-rate thing for me." "And for me?" "Oh, I hope you won't have to go on slaving for Miss Crawford. You must come and keep house--" Bertie stopped abruptly. He could deceive on a grand scale, but these small fibs, which came unexpectedly, confused him and stuck in his throat. "Keep house for you? Is that all I am to do? Bertie, how rich do you hope to be?" "Rich enough to keep you very soon," he answered gravely. "But does Mr. Gordon think you have a chance of this appointment?" "Why not?" said Bertie. "I am fit for it." There was no arrogance in his simple statement of the fact. "I know you are. All the same, I think I won't give up my situation till we see how this new plan turns out. And I don't want to be idle." "But I don't want you to work," said Bertie. "You are killing yourself, and you know it. Well, this is worth inquiring about at any rate, isn't it?" "Yes, it certainly is. It sounds very pleasant. But pray don't be rash: don't give up what you have already until you quite see your way." "No, but I think I do see it. I'll just take the 8.35 train to-morrow and find out how the land lies. I can be back early in the afternoon." So the matter was settled. As they went off to bed Lisle casually remarked that he had not seen Thorne that day: "Is he out, I wonder?" Miss Bryant was making her nightly examination of the premises. She overheard the remark as she turned down the gas in the passage, and informed them that when Mr. Thorne came in from the office he complained of a headache, asked for a cup of tea and went early to bed. "Poor fellow!" said Lisle.--"Good-night, Miss Bryant." Apparently, Percival's headache did not keep him in bed, for a light gleamed dimly in his sitting-room late that Tuesday night. CHAPTER XLV. A THUNDERBOLT IN STANDON SQUARE.