“Yet, I can see,” said the girl, “in my prophetic vision, our Boabdil giving me the key of the fortress, if we go to work properly. Meanwhile, let us build our Santa Fe.” “Castles in Spain! dear—just the place for them. I can see ghosts of giant physiologists and vampire surgeons guarding the treasures of their vermilion towers, and warning you off their premises.” “I don’t fear them, aunt. I shall visit Isabella’s tomb again for courage, though.” “I think we had better sleep over this. Buenas noches, señorita.” “Con dios.” When the time came to leave Granada, Aunt Janet noticed that her niece was in rather low spirits. She guessed the cause, for it was manifest she was more than interested in the young doctor; and though it was difficult to say whether her interest was more in his work than in himself, or the contrary, she was glad that something had arisen to rouse the girl from the grief which had weighed upon her since her father’s death. That was the charm of Aunt Janet—she always accepted accomplished facts with equanimity, and perhaps was rather a fatalist. If Mildred was really in love, so much the better—she thought it would replace the lost light which had gone out of her life; and if, still better, she had really found a great philanthropic object in life, why the meeting with young Elsworth was the best thing that could have happened. “There’s a divinity that shapes our ends Rough-hew them how we will.” Would it not be strange if it should turn out that Elsworth’s exile to Granada, and their visit, should be the centre round which the lives of two noble souls should revolve? CHAPTER XL. “SHOD WITH WOOL!” There is no strange handwriting on the wall, Thro’ all the midnight hum no threatening call, Nor on the marble floor the stealthy fall Of fatal footsteps. All is safe. Thou fool, The avenging deities are shod with wool! —_W. Allen Butler._ But the sinner who would fain Cover murder’s crimson stain, Still shall find his steps pursued By inquisitors for blood, Due to the unavenged dead, Our malison devotes his head. —_J. Anstice, translated from Æschylus._ The last week in September usually sees all the teachers and staff of the hospitals back at their posts. Mr. Crowe and Dr. Graves were again in harness, and the patients who had been the objects of ’prentice work now came under master hands. These long vacations are grand times for the junior staff; then they are the lords of the territory, and can try everything without fear of interference from their superiors who do not want any more information on what perhaps interests their juniors keenly.