"Why! It is Major Carlen!" "Just so. And it is Charles. How are you, Charles?" "Have you lately come from Brussels?" I asked, as we shook hands. "And how did you leave mamma and Blanche?" "They are in Gloucester Place," he answered. "We all came over last Wednesday." "I wonder they did not let me know it." "Plenty of time, young man. They will not be going away in a hurry. We are settling down here again. You can come up when you like." "That will be to-morrow then. Good-night, sir." But it was not until Monday evening that I could get away. Mr. Lennard went out in the afternoon on some private matter of his own, and desired me to remain in to see a client, who had sent us word he should call, although it was Easter Monday. Mr. Brightman did not come to town that day. Six o'clock was striking when I reached Gloucester Place. Blanche ran to meet me in the passage, and we had a spell of kissing. I think she was then about fourteen; perhaps fifteen. A fair, upright, beautiful girl, with the haughty blue eyes of her childhood, and a shower of golden curls. "Oh, Charley, I am so glad! I thought you were never, never coming to us." "I did not know you were here until last night. You should have sent me word." "I told mamma so; but she was not well. She is not well yet. The journey tired her, you see, and the sea was rough. Come upstairs and see her, Charley. Papa has just gone out." Mrs. Carlen sat over the fire in the drawing-room in an easy-chair, a shawl upon her shoulders. It was a dull evening, twilight not far off, and she sat with her back to the light. It struck me she looked thin and ill. I had been over once or twice to stay with them in Brussels; the last time, eighteen months ago. "Are you well, mamma?" I asked as she kissed me--for I had not left off calling her by the fond old childhood's name. "You don't look so." "The journey tired me, Charley," she answered--just as Blanche had said to me. "I have a little cold, too. Sit down, my boy." "Have you come back here for good?" I asked. "Well, yes, I suppose so," she replied with hesitation. "For the present, at all events." Tea was brought in. Blanche made it; her mother kept to her chair and her shawl. The more I looked at her, the greater grew the conviction that something beyond common ailed her. Major Carlen was dining out, and they had dined in the middle of the day. Alas! I soon knew what was wrong. After tea, contriving to get rid of Blanche for a few minutes on some plausible excuse, she told me all. An inward complaint was manifesting itself, and it was hard to say how it might terminate. The Belgian doctors had not been very reassuring upon the point. On the morrow she was going to consult James Paget. "Does Blanche know?" I asked. "Not yet. I must see Mr. Paget before saying anything to her. If my own fears are confirmed, I shall tell her. In that case I shall lose no time in placing her at school." "At school!"