His tone was grave and significant--I believed the man. He was glad that his mission had failed; he was glad that I was not added to the list of his miserable patients. I had strength enough left to part with him in firm calmness--nay, I went further; I accompanied him to the door, and saw him leave Mossgray. And then--those bitter, scorching, desperate tears of manhood that burned upon my cheek--those convulsive sobs that shook me with their fierce strength--this fearful loneliness, which left me a prey to all the fiery fancies within, and all the secret foes without--“God help me!” I had need. A sudden fancy took me, as I wrestled fiercely with this fierce affliction. I left the house, and hurried along that side of the grounds of Mossgray which immediately skirts the road--where there was a wall of four or five feet high, lined by old trees, which hung their high foliage over, shadowing the highway below. They were nearly bare then, but under the sombre covert of a group of firs, and taking advantage of the stump of an old ash tree, I ventured to look over. Doctor Pulvers was proceeding at a dignified slow pace along the road, while some one approached hurriedly in the other direction--I looked again; it was Charlie. They must meet immediately beneath the spot where I stood--I drew back among the firs and waited. “Well, Doctor?” “You have fortunately been quite misinformed, Mr Charles,” said the constrained voice of the physician. “Your cousin has as perfect possession of his faculties as either you or I. I am glad to be able to inform you of his perfect health. He is not either very robust or very happy, I dare say, and has the good sense and courage not to veil the latter, with false pride or levity, as I have seen many young men do, but his constitution is sound, and his mind elastic. I have not the slightest fear of him.” There was a dead pause; for a moment or two after, Charlie said not a word. Then he exclaimed, somewhat loudly,-- “Well, of course I am very happy to hear it. The more fool he, to give these gossips the chance of speaking of him so; but Adam was always a sentimental fellow. Of course it is a great satisfaction to me to find it all groundless.” They passed on. I heard no more of their conversation, nor wished to hear; and I was too thoroughly worn out to be moved by my former passions, either of sorrow or anger. So I took rest--not very quiet nor peaceful, but still more natural and refreshing than I had known for many nights and days. CHAPTER IX. There is no light in earth or heaven But the cold light of stars, And the first watch of night is given To the red planet Mars-- Is it the gentle star of love? The star of love and dreams? Ah, no! from that blue tent above A hero’s armour gleams.--LONGFELLOW.