Herbert soothed him better than any one else could do, and he fell asleep again; but Mr. Lipscombe declared it was of no use to remain-- nothing but madness; and they could not gainsay him. He left the two clergymen together, feeling himself to have done a very valiant and useless thing in the interests of justice, or at the importunity of a foolishly zealous young curate. "Look here," said Herbert, "Whitlock may be trusted. Leave a note for him explaining. I'll stay here; I'm the best to do so, any way. If he revives and is sensible, I'll send off at once for Whitlock, or if there is no time, I'll write it down and let him see me sign it." "And some one else, if possible," said Julius. "The difficulty is that I never had authority given me to use what he said to me in private. Rather the contrary, for old instinctive habits of caution awoke the instant I told him it was his duty to make it known, and that Archie was alive. I don't like leaving you here, Herbert, but Raymond was very weak this morning; besides, there's poor Joe's funeral." "Oh, never mind. He'll have his sleep out, and be all right when he awakes. Think of righting Jenny's young man! How jolly!" Julius went across to the town-hall hospital, and told the Sisters, whose darling his curate was, of the charge he had undertaken, and they promised to look after him. After which Julius made the best of his way home, where Rosamond had, as usual, a bright face for him. Her warm heart and tender tact had shown her that obtrusive attempts to take care of him would only be harassing, so she only took care to secure him food and rest in his own house whenever it was possible, and that however low her own hopes might be, she would not add to his burden; and now Terry was so much better that she could well receive him cheerily, and talk of what Terry had that day eaten, so joyously, as almost to conceal that no one was better at the Hall. "I will come with you," she said; "I might do something for poor Fanny," as the bell began to toll for little Joshua's funeral. Fanny Reynolds, hearing some rumour of her boy's illness, had brought Drake to her home three days before his death. The poor little fellow's utterances, both conscious and unconscious, had strangely impressed the man, and what had they not awakened in the mother? And when the words, so solemn and mysterious, fell on those unaccustomed ears in the churchyard, and Fanny, in her wild overpowering grief, threw herself about in an agony of sorrow and remorse, and sobbed with low screams, it was 'the lady' whom she viewed as an angel of mercy, who held her and hushed her; and when all was over, and she was sinking down, faint and hysterical, it was 'the lady' who--a little to the scandal of the more respectable-- helped Drake to carry her to the Rectory, the man obeying like one dazed.