Just before nearing Paddington Station, Trevor took out his pocket-book, and the rugged, hard look upon his face was softened. He glanced round the compartment, to see that half his fellow-passengers were asleep, the soldier drunk, the stout old lady with the bundles busy hunting for her railway ticket, and the sailor disconsolately trying to drain a little more rum out of his bottle. By this time Trevor had grown weary of the long journey--so tedious on the hard third-class seats--in spite of his determination; and a sigh would once or twice escape, as recollections of his old first-class luxury intruded. "I'll hold to it, though," he muttered. And, determined to go on in his course, he opened his pocket-book, and drew from it a letter which he had received from Tolcarne. It was not long, but it sent the blood dancing through his veins, and nerved him for the fight to come. It ran as follows:-- "Dearest Dick--What shall I say to you in this your great trouble? Can I say more than that I would give anything to be by your side, to try and advise--at all events, to try and help and comfort? Papa was very angry when your letter came, and read it to Aunt Matty; but let that pass, as I tell you only, Dick, that you have a friend in dear mamma, who stood up for you as nobly as did darling little Fin, who had been in unaccountably low spirits before. I tried so hard, Dick, to come to you--to answer your letter and scold you; but they would not let me stir. I dare not tell you what they said; you must guess when I tell you that I was a dreadfully disobedient child, and Aunt Matty declared that no good could ever come to a girl who set herself up in opposition to her father and aunt. Poor dear mamma was left out of it altogether. I say all this, Dick, for fear you should think I fell away from you in your trouble, and would not come to you as you wished; but my heart was with you all the time. And now, Dick, darling, to be more matter-of-fact, what is all this to us? You could not help it; and whether you are Richard Trevor or Richard Lloyd by name, how does it alter you in the eyes of her to whom you said so much? Dick, you don't know me, or you would never have sent me that cruel letter, so full of your dreadful determination. Oh, Dick, do you think--can you think--I wish to be free? You taught me to love you, and you cannot undo your work. For shame, to write in that desponding tone because of this accident. It was very wicked and dreadful of Mrs Lloyd, but you could not help it; and now you have so nobly determined to make restitution to poor Humphrey, let it all go. My Dick only stands out more nobly than ever. You have your profession, sir--go back to that, and they will only be too proud to have you; but don't go long voyages, or where there are storms. I lay awake all night listening to the wind, and thinking how thankful I