"Poor Jack!" he murmured, "where is he now?" For some months had elapsed since he had found a few lines of sad farewell from Jack lying on his writing desk, but pregnant with despair and reckless helplessness. And Jack had gone whither not even Mr. Levy Moss, who sought him far and wide, could discover; and not Mr. Moss alone, but Lady Bell Earlsley; fast as she had traveled from Earl's Court to London, she arrived too late to see Jack, too late to learn from his lips the nature of the trouble which he had spoken of in his short note to her. And from Leonard even, she could not learn much. He could only tell her that Jack and Una's engagement was broken off, and by Jack himself, but for what reason he could not tell or guess. And with that Lady Bell had to be, not content, but patient. "You were his dearest friend," she said to Leonard, "can you not guess where he has gone?" And Leonard had shaken his head sorrowfully. "I cannot even guess. He was utterly miserable and reckless; he once spoke, half in jest, of enlisting. He was in great trouble." "Money trouble?" Lady Bell had asked. "Money trouble," assented Len, and Lady Bell had sunk into Leonard's chair and wrung her white hands. "Money! money! how I hate the word! and here I am with more of the vile stuff than I know what to do with!" "That would make no difference to Jack," Leonard said, quietly; and Lady Bell had sighed--she almost sobbed--and gone on her way as near broken-hearted as a woman could be. And then she had sought for him as openly as she dared, but with no result, save discovering that there were hundreds of young men who answered to Jack's description, and who were all indignant when they applied in response to the advertisements and found that they were not the men wanted. And so the months had rolled on, and the "Savage" was nearly forgotten at the Club, excepting at odd times when Hetley or Dalrymple remembered how well he used to tool a team to the "Sheaves," or row stroke in a scratch eight. My friend, if you want to find out of how little importance you are in your little world, disappear for a few months, and when you come back you will find that your place has been excellently well filled, excepting in the hearts of the one or two faithful men and women who loved you. The world went on very well without Jack, and only two or three hearts ached, really ached, at his absence--Len, honest Len, in his den in Spider Court; Lady Bell, in Park Lane; and that other tender, loving, and tortured heart in the old new house at Hurst. Leonard often thought of that tender heart, and sighed over it as he sighed for Jack. It was still a mystery to him, their separation; he knew that Una was still at the Hurst, but that was all. No news of her ever reached him. At times he ran across Stephen in London, and exchanged a word or a bow with him, and had noticed that he was looking better and sleeker, and less pale--more flourishing in fact, than he had done for some time.