“Will you merely take in my name,” said Sir Brook, “and beg, with my respects, to learn at what hour to-morrow Dr. Beattie would accord me a few minutes.” The butler's hesitation was mildly overcome by the persuasive touch of a sovereign, and he retired with the message. Before a minute elapsed, Dr. Beattie came out, napkin in hand, and his face beaming with delight. “If there was a man in Europe I was wishing for this moment, it was yourself, Sir Brook,” said he. “Do you know who is dining with me? Come in and see.--No, no, I 'll not be denied.” A sudden terror crossed Fossbrooke's mind that his guest might be Colonel Sewell, and he hung back, muttering some words of apology. “I tell you,” repeated the doctor, “I'll take no refusal. It's the rarest piece of luck ever befell, to have chanced upon you. Poor Lendrick is dying for some news of his son and daughter.” “Lendrick! Dr. Lendrick?” “To be sure,--who else? When your knock came to the door, I was telling him that I heard you were in Dublin, and only doubted it because you had never called on me; but come along, we can say all these things over our soup. Look whom I have brought you, Tom,” cried Beattie, as he led Sir Brook into the room,--“here's Sir Brook Fossbrooke come to join us.” And the two men grasped hands in heartiest embrace, while Fossbrooke, not waiting for a word of question, said, “Both well and hearty. I had a telegram from Tom this morning.” “How much I owe you!--how much, how much!” was all that Lendrick could say, and his eyes swam as he said it. “It is I am the debtor, and well I know what it is worth to be so! Their loving kindness and affection have rescued me from the one terror of my life,--the fear of becoming a discontented, incredulous old bachelor. Heaven bless them for it; their goodness has kept me out of that danger.” “And how are they looking? Is Lucy--” He stopped and looked half ashamed. “More beautiful than ever,” broke in Fossbrooke. “I think she is taller than when you last saw her, and perhaps a shade more thoughtful looking; and Tom is a splendid fellow. I scarcely know what career he could not follow, nor where he would not seem too good for whatever he was doing.” “Ah, if I could but tell you how happy you have made me!” muttered Lendrick. “I ought never to have left them,--never broken up my home. I did it unwillingly, it is true; but I ought never to have done it.” “Who knows if it may not turn out for the best, after all? You need never be separated henceforth. Tom's last letter to me--I 'll bring it over to you to-morrow--tells me what I well knew must befall us sooner or later,--that we are rolling in wealth, have silver enough to pave the streets, and more money than we shall be able to spend--though I once had rather a knack that way.” “That's glorious news!” said Beattie. “It's _our_ mine, I suppose?” added he, laughing.