opportunities during that time of being called upon for any decision, that it was an entirely new sensation to him to remember suddenly that this was a thing which concerned somebody else as well as it did himself. But the thought was nothing but sweet; it meant that there was somebody now by his side, there always would be, to care for the things that happened to him; and Rachel, too, would be borne up on the wave of excitement and rejoicing that was shaking Rendel, to his own surprise, so strangely out of his usual reserved composure. He sat down mechanically at his writing-table and drew a sheet of writing-paper idly towards him, wondering how he should formulate his reply. To his great surprise and somewhat shamefaced amusement, he found that his hand was shaking so that he could not control the pen. He would go up before writing and tell Rachel. Then, as he went upstairs, he was conscious of a secret annoyance that a third person should just at this moment be between them. A profound silence reigned as he opened the drawing-room door. Rachel and her father were poring intently over the chess-board. Rachel looked up eagerly as her husband came in. "Oh, Francis," she said, "I am so glad. Do come and tell me what to do." "Yes, I wish you would," Sir William said, with some impatience. "Look what she is doing with her queen." "Is that a letter you want to show me?" said Rachel, looking at the envelope in Rendel's hand. "All right. It will keep," he said quietly, putting it back in his breast pocket. Sir William kept his eyes intently fixed upon the board. He would not countenance any diversion of fixed and rigid attention from the game in hand. "That is what I should do," said Rendel, moving one of Rachel's pawns on to the back line. "Oh! how splendid!" said Rachel. "I believe I have a chance after all." Sir William gave a grunt of satisfaction. "That's more like it," he said. "If you had come up a little sooner we might have had a decent game." Rendel made no comment. The game ended in the most auspicious way possible. Rachel, backed by Rendel's advice, showed fight a little longer and left the victory to Sir William in the end after a desperate struggle. The hour of departure came. Rachel and her husband both went downstairs with Sir William. They opened the door. It was a bright, starlight night. Sir William announced his intention of walking to a cab, and with his coat buttoned up against the east wind, started off along the pavement. Rachel turned back into the house with a sigh as she saw him go. "He is getting to look much older, isn't he?" she said. "Poor dear, it is hard on him to have to turn out at this time of night." Rendel vaguely heard and barely took in the meaning of what she was saying. His one idea was that now he would be able to tell her his news.