indefinitely long after he thought that it had died away. He put the old drifting fancies out of his mind, and, having no leaning toward self-indulgence, believed at last that they were done with because they returned but seldom; but he never heard of Bertha, either through the professor or through others, without being conscious for days afterward of an unrest he called by no name. He rested under the influence of this feeling as he was driven through the lighted streets toward his hotel, and his recollection of his last drive through these same streets made it stronger. "Eight years," he said. "She has been to many parties since then. Let us hope she has enjoyed them all." He made his first visit to the professor the same evening, after he had established himself in his room and dined. The professor was always at home in the evening, and, irregular as their correspondence had been, Tredennis felt that he was sure of a welcome from him. He was not mistaken in this. He found his welcome. The professor was seated in his dressing-gown, before his study-table, as if he had not stirred during the eight years. He had even the appearance of being upon the point of empaling the same corpulent beetle upon the same attenuated pin, and of engaging in the occupation with the same scientific interest Tredennis remembered so well. On hearing his visitor's name announced, he started slightly, laid his beetle aside with care, and, rising from his seat, came forward with warm pleasure in his face. "What!" he exclaimed. "What!--_you_, Tredennis! Well, well! I'm very glad, my dear fellow! I'm very glad." He shook his hand affectionately, at the same time holding him by the shoulder, as if to make more sure of him. "I am very glad myself," said Tredennis. "It is a great pleasure to see you again." "And it took you eight years to get round to us," said the professor, looking at him thoughtfully, and turning him round a trifle more to the light. "Eight years! That's a slice out of a man's life, too." "But you are no older, professor," said Tredennis. "I am older, but not you." The professor nodded acquiescence. "Yes, yes, I know all about that," he said. "You're an old fellow, now; I was an old fellow myself forty years ago. There, sit down, and tell me all about it. That is the chair you sat in when you were here last. You sat in it the night--the night we talked about Bertha." CHAPTER IV. "How is Bertha?" Tredennis asked. The professor sat down in his chair and took up the poker quite carefully. "She is at a party to-night," he said, poking the fire, "though it is late in the season for parties. She generally is at a party--oftener than not she is at two or three parties." "Then she must be well," suggested Tredennis. "Oh, she is well," the professor answered. "And she gets a good deal out of life. She will always get a good deal out of it--in one way or another." "That is a good thing," remarked Tredennis.