The stranger kicked aside his dog, which was in the way, and loosened the poor man's stiff military stock. While thus charitably engaged, the moon broke out, and the light fell full on the pale care-worn face of the unconscious sufferer. "This face seems not unfamiliar to me, though sadly changed," said the stranger to himself; and bending towards the girl, who had sunk on her knees and was chafing her father's hands, he asked, "My child, what is your father's name?" The child continued her task, too absorbed to answer. The stranger put his hand on her shoulder, and repeated the question. "Digby," answered the child, almost unconsciously; and as she spoke, the man's senses began to return. In a few minutes more he had sufficiently recovered to falter forth his thanks to the stranger. But the last took his hand, and said, in a voice at once tremulous and soothing, "Is it possible that I see once more an old brother in arms? Algernon Digby, I do not forget you; but it seems England has forgotten!" A hectic flush spread over the soldier's face, and he looked away from the speaker as he answered-- "My name is Digby, it is true, sir; but I do not think we have met before. Come, Helen, I am well now--we will go home." "Try and play with that great dog, my child," said the stranger--"I want to talk with your father." The child bowed her submissive head, and moved away; but she did not play with the dog. "I must re-introduce myself, formally, I see," quoth the stranger. "You were in the same regiment with myself, and my name is L'Estrange." "My lord," said the soldier, rising, "forgive me that--" "I don't think that it was the fashion to call me 'my lord' at the mess-table. Come, what has happened to you?--on half pay?" Mr. Digby shook his head mournfully. "Digby, old fellow, can you lend me £100?" said Lord L'Estrange, clapping his _ci-devant_ brother officer on the shoulder, and in a tone of voice that seemed like a boy's--so impudent was it and devil-me-carish. "No! Well, that's lucky, for I can lend it to you." Mr. Digby burst into tears. Lord L'Estrange did not seem to observe the emotion. "We were both sad extravagant fellows in our day," said he, "and I dare say I borrowed of you pretty freely." "Me! Oh, Lord L'Estrange?" "You have married since then, and reformed, I suppose. Tell me, old friend, all about it." Mr. Digby, who by this time had succeeded in restoring some calm to his shattered nerves, now rose, and said in brief sentences, but clear firm tones,-- "My Lord, it is idle to talk of me--useless to help me. I am fast dying. But, my child there, my only child, (he paused an instant, and went on rapidly.) I have relations in a distant country, if I could but get to them--I think they would at least provide for her. This has been for weeks my hope, my dream, my prayer. I cannot afford the journey except by your help. I have begged without shame for myself; shall I be ashamed, then, to beg for her?"