He sat looking sadly into the red hollow of the neglected fire and sighed heavily. "I am like old Bunyan's pilgrims," he continued. "I remember that they came to a place where they saw a way put itself into their way, and seemed withal to lie as straight as the way which they should go. And now I fear that I have gone out of my right path without knowing it. Well, so long as the penalty falls upon me only, I can bear it!" But his spirit was still disquieted when he went to his little chamber that night. He lay awake for hours thinking of Nelly, and of the future which lay before them both. Next morning came a letter, in his father's handwriting, which was full of sad tidings. His mother was dangerously ill;--could he not come to her at once? Morgan went straightway to the rectory, and laid his case before the rector. The old man had his son, a young deacon, staying in his house, and readily consented to spare his curate. Then there was a letter to Nelly to be written, explaining the cause of his sudden departure. Before noon the train was bearing him far away from the vales and woods of Huntsdean, straight to the great world of London. And from Euston Square he travelled to the ancient Warwickshire city where his parents had made their home. CHAPTER XIV. EVE HAZLEBURN, POET AND FRIEND. A very humble home it was; but his love had stinted self to obtain comforts for them. The light of the February day was fading when he entered the little house, and found his father eagerly watching for him. "You are a good son,--a good son," said the old man, in a broken voice. "She is no worse; and Miss Hazleburn is with her." Hazleburn! The name had a familiar sound; but Morgan was too weary and agitated to remember where he had heard it before. He took his way at once to his mother's chamber. As he went in, a small, slight figure rose from a chair by the bedside, and quietly glided away. He scarcely looked at it in the gathering dusk; moreover he had no thoughts, just then, for anybody but the mother who lay there yearning for a sight of him. His coming seemed to do Mrs. Foster good, and give her a new hold upon life. It was a low nervous fever that had seized upon her, taking away her strength by slow degrees, until she had grown almost as helpless as an infant. But God had sent her a friend in Eve Hazleburn. And before he slept that night, Morgan had heard from his father's lips the story of Miss Hazleburn's unselfish kindness.