'Nothing,' he wearily said, 'I mean, a great deal too much.' The tone so recalled Norman's dejected hopelessness, that she could not help tenderly laying her cold hands on the hot brow, and saying, 'Yes, I know how little one can do as a sister--and the mockery it is to think that one place can ever be taken!' The brown eyes looked at her with moist earnestness that she could hardly bear, but closed with a look of relief and soothing, as she held her hand on his forehead. Presently, however, he said, 'Don't let me keep you in.' 'I have been out, thank you. I am so glad to try to do anything for you.' 'Thank you. What o'clock is it, please? Ah, then I ought to take that draught! I forgot it in the morning.' He permitted her to fetch it and pour it out, but as she recognized a powerful tonic, she exclaimed, 'Is this what you are taking? May it not make you feverish?' 'No doubt it does,' he said, lying down again; 'it was only Henry--' 'What! did not my father know of it?' 'Of course he does not, as it seems to be poison.' 'Not exactly that,' said Ethel; 'but I was surprised, for it was talked of for Aubrey; but they said it wanted watching.' 'Just like Henry,' observed Leonard. 'Well,' said Ethel, repressing her indignation, 'I am glad, at least, to find a possible cause for your bad night. We shall see you refreshed to-morrow, and not wishing yourself at home.' 'Don't think that I wish that. Home is gone for ever.' 'Home may be gone higher--up to the real Home,' said Ethel, blushing with the effort at the hint, and coming down to earthlier consolations, 'but even the fragments will grow into home again here, and you will feel very differently.' Leonard did not answer; but after a pause said, 'Miss May, is not it a horrid pity girls should go to school?' 'I am no judge, Leonard.' 'You see,' said the boy, 'after the little girls were born, my mother had no time for Ave, and sent her to Brighton, and there she begged to stay on one half after another, learning all sorts of things; but only coming home for short holidays, like company, for us to wonder at her and show her about, thinking herself ever so much in advance of my poor mother, and now she knows just nothing at all of her!' 'You cannot tell, Leonard, and I am sure she has been devoted to you.' 'If she had stayed at home like you, she might have known how to let one alone. Oh, you can't think what peace it was yesterday!' 'Was it peace? I feared it was desertion.' 'It is much better to be by oneself, than always worried. To have them always at me to get up my spirits when the house is miserable--' 'Ah,' said Ethel, 'I remember your mother rejoicing that she had not to send you from home, and saying you were always so kind and gentle to her.' 'Did she!' cried the boy, eagerly. 'Oh, but she forgot--' and he hid his face, the features working with anguish. 'So pleased and proud she used to look, walking with you on Saturday afternoons.'