"No," said Brown; "but you shall have it in a fortnight. I'll telegraph about it, and go East and settle the business for you, so you can come back without fear." "You're a trump; but--don't think hard of me--money's never certain till you have it in hand. I'll write and send my letter East by you; when the matter's absolutely settled, you can telegraph _me_, and mail her my letter. I'd expect to be shot if I made such a proposal to any other rival, but you're not a man--you're a saint. Confound you, all the sermons I ever heard hadn't as much real goodness in them as I've heard the last ten minutes! But 'twould be awful for me to write and then have the thing slip up!" Brown admitted the justice of the major's plan, and took the major to his own hotel to keep him from bad company. During the whole evening the major talked about business: but when, after a night of sound sleep, the student awoke, he found the major pacing his room with a very pale face, and heard him declare that he had not slept a wink. Brown pitied the major in his nervous condition and did what he could to alleviate it. He talked to him of Florence Elserly, of whom he seemed never to tire of talking; he spoke to him of his own work and hopes. He tried to picture to the major the happy future which was awaiting him but still the major was unquiet and absent-minded. Brown called in a physician, to whom he said his friend was suffering from severe mental depression, brought on by causes now removed; but the doctor's prescriptions failed to have any effect. Finally, when Brown was to start for the East the major, paler and thinner than ever, handed him a letter addressed to Miss Elserly. "Brown," said the major, "I believe you won't lose any money by your goodness. I _can_ make money when I am not reckless, and I'll make it my duty to be careful until you are paid. The rest I _can't_ pay, but I'm going to try to be as good a man as you are. That's the sort of compensation that'll please such an unearthly fellow best, I guess."