“I hope they will be happy,” a strange voice said. The speaker was evidently in the room, but I had not heard the door open, and I looked round in some astonishment. The Earl seemed to share my surprise. “Who spoke?” he exclaimed. “It was I,” said Arthur, looking at us with a worn, haggard face, and eyes from which the light of life seemed suddenly to have faded. “And let me wish _you_ joy also, dear friend,” he added, looking sadly at the Earl, and speaking in the same hollow tones that had startled us so much. “Thank you,” the old man said, simply and heartily. A silence followed: then I rose, feeling sure that Arthur would wish to be alone, and bade our gentle host ‘Good night’: Arthur took his hand, but said nothing: nor did he speak again, as we went home, till we were in the house and had lit our bed-room candles. Then he said, more to himself than to me, “_The heart knoweth its own bitterness_. I never understood those words till now.” The next few days passed wearily enough. I felt no inclination to call again, by myself, at the Hall; still less to propose that Arthur should go with me: it seemed better to wait till Time—that gentle healer of our bitterest sorrows—should have helped him to recover from the first shock of the disappointment that had blighted his life. Business, however, soon demanded my presence in town; and I had to announce to Arthur that I must leave him for a while. “But I hope to run down again in a month,” I added. “I would stay now, if I could. I don’t think it’s good for you to be alone.” “No, I ca’n’t face solitude, _here_, for long,” said Arthur. “But don’t think about _me_. I have made up my mind to accept a post in India, that has been offered me. Out there, I suppose I shall find something to live for; I can’t see _anything_ at present. ‘_This life of mine I guard, as God’s high gift, from scathe and wrong, Not greatly care to lose!_’” “Yes,” I said: “your name-sake bore as heavy a blow, and lived through it.” “A far heavier one than _mine_,” said Arthur. “The woman _he_ loved proved false. There is no such cloud as _that_ on my memory of—of——” He left the name unuttered, and went on hurriedly. “But _you_ will return, will you not?” “Yes, I shall come back for a short time.” “Do,” said Arthur: “and you shall write and tell me of our friends. I’ll send you my address when I’m settled down.” CHAPTER XXIV. THE FROGS’ BIRTHDAY-TREAT. And so it came to pass that, just a week after the day when my Fairy-friends first appeared as Children, I found myself taking a farewell-stroll through the wood, in the hope of meeting them once more. I had but to stretch myself on the smooth turf, and the ‘eerie’ feeling was on me in a moment. “Put oor ear _welly_ low down,” said Bruno, “and I’ll tell oo a secret! It’s the Frogs’ Birthday-Treat—and we’ve lost the Baby!” “_What_ Baby?” I said, quite bewildered by this complicated piece of news.