The interview with the doctor was most satisfactory. He was a kindly, simple-minded man, much interested in his patient from a professional standpoint, and fond of the lad for his own sake. Monica’s beauty and sweetness were evidently not lost upon him. He had heard much of her from the young Herr, he explained, and could understand well the feelings he had so often heard expressed. No, the invalid had not been told of the expected arrival. He did not know but that Lord and Lady Trevlyn were in England. Did the noble lady wish to go to him? He would honour himself by leading the way. Monica followed him with a beating heart. They went up a wide carpetless staircase, and on the first landing her guide paused, and indicated a certain door. “He is up; madame can go straight in. A joyful surprise will but do him good.” Monica turned the handle, and entered, as quietly and calmly as if this had been the daily visit to the old room at Trevlyn. Arthur was lying with his back to the door. He was reading, and did not turn his head, fancying it was the servant entering, as he heard the rustle of a dress. Monica came and stood behind him, laying her hand upon his head. “Arthur!” she said softly. Then he started as if he had been shot. He sat up with an energy that showed a decided increase of strength, holding out his hands in eager welcome. “Monica! Monica!” he cried, in a sort of rapturous excitement. “It is Monica herself!” She bent over him and kissed him again and again, and would have made him lie down again; but he was too excited to obey. “Monica! My own Monica! When did you come? What does it all mean? Oh, this is too splendid! Where’s Randolph?” “Here,” answered that familiar voice, just within the door. “Well, my boy, how are you getting on? Like a house on fire, eh? Monica and I are on our wedding trip, you know. We thought we would finish it off by coming to have a look at you. Well, you look pretty comfortable up here, and have made fine progress, I hear, since I saw you last. Like everything as much as you make out in your letters, eh?” “Oh! I’m all right enough. Never mind me. Tell me about yourselves. Whose idea was this? I call it just splendid!” “Randolph’s idea,” answered Monica. “All the good ideas are his now, Arthur. We have come to stay a whole fortnight with you; and when I have seen everything with my own eyes, and am quite convinced that everybody is treating you well, I shall go home content to Trevlyn, to wait till you can join us there.”