"Kingsley is laboring under an impression that he has been away from us but a very short time. What we know to be real he believes to be fancies. He has made no reference to his travels abroad with Mr. Seymour, nor to the railway accident in which he was injured. He speaks of dreams, and even then not clearly. It is difficult for me to make myself understood--" "Not at all, Nansie; I think I understand. The accident he met with has affected his memory; but it is good that he is with us now. We can take care of him, we can nurse him back to strength and health." "How kind you are, uncle! Never thinking of yourself!" "Nonsense, my dear, nonsense! It is entirely of myself that I am thinking, for I would not lose you and your dear ones for all the money the world contains. That is putting a small value upon money, though. I wish we had a little." In his mind was the thought, "We need it all the more now," but he did not give the thought utterance. "Is he low-spirited, despondent, Nansie?" "No, uncle, quite the contrary. He is as light-hearted and gay as ever, and speaks in the same sweet, hopeful strains of the future, his anticipations of which led him into the error of--" She stopped short; she did not complete the sentence. Her uncle completed it for her. "Of marrying you, my dear. Do not regret it; accept it as a blessing, as it really is. Short-sighted mortals as we are to so constantly forget that life is short, and that its sweetest happiness is to be found in self-sacrifice--even, Nansie, in suffering!" They entered the room together, and found Kingsley awake. He rose when his eyes lighted upon Mr. Loveday, and, with a bright smile, said: "Nansie's uncle?" "Yes, Kingsley," said Mr. Loveday. And Nansie raised her uncle's hand to her lips, and kissed it in grateful recognition of the affectionate greeting. "Now," said Kingsley, to whom strength seemed to have really returned; he held out his hand, and retained Mr. Loveday's in his as he spoke--"now what could be pleasanter, what could be brighter and more full of promise? Here, for the first time, we meet, and I recognize in you a friend. Believe me, sir, when I say a friend, it is said once and forever; it is _meant_ once and forever. I am no butterfly, eh, Nansie?" "No, dear Kingsley," she replied, pressing close to him. He passed his arm round her.