Mr. Henry rallied himself, and apologized with a smile. He had only felt a little faint: it was over now. A little faint! But he did not mention that sharp pain, that strange fluttering of heart, which seemed so often to follow any extra emotion or exertion; and this day had brought plenty of both for him. However, it was gone now. "Here, don't start off in that haste," cried the doctor, going out after him. "Don't you think you ought to have advice for that faintness?" he asked, as Mr. Henry turned. "Yes, perhaps I ought." "I should. You have been working your strength away. Good-night." Mr. Henry hastened home, wrote a short letter to his sick friend Weber, enclosed the bank-note, and went out to post it. As he emerged from the short shrubbery, skirting round by the chapel, and gained the road, he saw, to his surprise, Dick Loftus. "Why, Dick! Are you home again?" "Got home to dinner," equably answered Dick, whose mouth was full of some crunching sweetmeat he had come down from Pond Place to buy. "We had a stunning passage: the boat pitching like mad, and Uncle Simon and old Gall fit to die. Will you have some?" he asked, exhibiting the stuff in his hand. "It's Gibraltar rock." "Not I, Dick, thank you. I should have thought you too old to eat that." "Am I, though?" said Dick, biting a huge morsel of the tempting compound. "It's jolly. I say, how's Mother Butter?" "_She's_ jolly," replied Mr. Henry, laughing. "Give my respectful compliments to her, and tell her I've come home. Do, please, Mr. Henry." Dick disappeared with a careless good-night, that rang out joyously in the evening air. Mr. Henry, having missed the opportunity to ask about his perilous bath at Boulogne, went on to the railway station, and dropped his letter into the box. There was a popular superstition obtaining, that letters posted there went quicker than if posted at the grocer's in the village. He was taking the middle of the road back, Sir Simon's grounds on one side, the plantation on the other,—when fleet footsteps came running behind, and a pair of light hands were laid upon his coat. He turned to see his sister. "Mary! What brings you here so late as this?" She laughed as she explained: she was in a merry mood. Mrs. Hill had taken them out a little way in the country, and they missed the train they ought to have come back by, and had only now got in. She could not help it, and she was running home to mamma and mamma's displeasure. "You _will_ catch it," said Mr. Henry, with comic seriousness. "Mamma had her things on in the afternoon, waiting for you to go out with her. Is that safe, Mary?" "Yes, yes. Just for once, Arthur." For she had linked her arm within his. Mr. Henry looked round on the lonely road. "All right," he said, "there's nobody about. I have not had you on my arm for a long while."