But leaving as he was leaving, took all pleasure out of Jack’s good fortune; if he felt any pleasure at all it was only from the excitement of the journey, and the occupation of both mind and body, which prevented him from dwelling on the sorrow he had brought on them all, and diverted his mind from the terrible anxiety Charlie’s state caused him. If it had not been for Dr. Bates, Jack would have remained at home for the night, and walked over to Brighton at daybreak to catch the coach, but the doctor was rather a nervous man, and knowing that it was quite possible Charlie might not live till the morning, he urged Mr. Leslie to take Jack to Brighton that evening, adding in an undertone that if anything happened Jack had better learn it in America. Perhaps it was as well for all parties that the doctor’s advice was acted upon, for it prevented any prolonged leave-takings, and gave no one time to fret over Jack’s departure; indeed, an hour after the council held in the kitchen, Jack was standing already to start, folding his mother in his arms as he bade her good-bye. Then he went to the sitting-room, in which Charlie was lying, and took a long, long look at him as he lay with closed eyes, just breathing, all the colour gone from his usually rosy cheeks. What would not Jack have given to see those merry blue eyes open once more before he went away, perhaps never to see them again? But no, the eyelids remained firmly closed, and Jack waited in vain for any hopeful sign. He was alone in the room, and before he left he knelt down by the side of the sofa and prayed until a footstep outside startled him, and he rose hastily, for, proud and reserved as he was, he would have hated even his mother to have seen him on his knees, for, like many young men of his age, he had a great deal more religion than the world gave him credit for. The footstep was Mrs. Shelley’s; she was come to warn her darling son that it was time he started or he would keep Mr. Leslie waiting. “Mother, may I have a lock of his hair?” asked Jack. And Mrs. Shelley cut one of Charlie’s fair curls for him; and then Jack stooped, and, for the first time for many years, kissed the boy’s pale cheeks, and then, once more embracing his mother, he left the room. But there was another person to say good-bye to—Fairy—who was waiting in the passage, and now came forward, putting both her hands in Jack’s and lifting up her sweet, delicate little face to be kissed as naturally as though Jack was her own brother; and though poor Jack blushed crimson as he stooped and kissed her, Fairy, if she changed colour at all, grew paler, for she felt very sad and lonely at the loss of her favourite companion. “You will think of me sometimes, Fairy, won’t you?” whispered Jack, holding her hands. “Yes, often, Jack; and mind you write to us directly you get to America; we shall be longing to know how you are getting on.”